Friendship Tinged With Madness
by Zombie Cat Scientist
Summary: What if Lex Luthor remembered reporter Clark Kent's friendship from their Smallville days? Heavy AU. Psychological and character analysis.
1. Chapter 1

**Friendship Tinged With Madness**

**or**

**Lex Luthor's Shelter for Hopeless Idiots**

_Just a short psychological-oriented what-if, borrowing a (tiny) bit from Superman: Secret Origins, Superman: Man of Steel, Smallville, and All Star Superman collectively, mixing and mashing them as I please.  
_

_summary: What if Lex Luthor remembered reporter Clark Kent's friendship from their Smallville days? Pre-slash if you squint, but mostly it really is just fucked up friendship. Psychological humor/tragedy fic.  
_

**.**

..~~~~~~~~~~~~~~..

.

With the Daily Planet banned from Luthercorp press conferences, and with Lois Lane throwing her new partner to the sharks to sneak in, it was more than a little surprising when they got invited after the sheer disaster that was the last conference when one of Luthor's own weapons went haywire and the newest talk in town, Superman, swooped in to upstage Luthor's own show and then apparently gave the Daily Planet an exclusive. But perhaps not so surprising, when one considered the Daily Planet was the only one who even had pictures of the man much less his spoken word, for if Lex Luthor was anything, it was a man burning with curiosity about his self proclaimed rival.

It was a sad, strangled two way interrogation. Lois Lane tried her best to get him to answer questions, like "What's up with all the disappearances of those unfortunate enough to receive Luthercorp's 'goodwill'? What's your stance on Luthercorp owning 72% of the city and strangling out unbiased media against it? On the side effects of gentrification pushing out low income residents of properties purchased by you?"

And at the same time, Luthor asked questions like "_Who _is_ Superman_? What was he doing on my property? What connections do you have to him?"

Neither of them were really getting any answers, neither even really listening, with Clark sheepishly sitting quiet in the background of their verbal battle.

Lex Luthor paused for one moment, realizing he was forgetting one of the reporters in their quibbling, and looked over Clark Kent seriously for the first time. "Don't I know you from somewhere?" It was a question Clark had been dreading.

"Yes-"

It should, perhaps, also not have been surprising when Rudy the Janitor turned into a giant pink energy sucking monster and interrupted the interview, if one could still call it that, by destroying the side wall of the office.

"Hungrryyyy... must have it, it glows like the sun..."

"I can't let him get me!" Clark exclaimed and ran.

"What's the matter, Clark? Afraid he'll absorb your cowardice?" Luthor remarked scathingly as Kent ducked behind a column to escape the hideous pink blob that called itself Parasite, then as it ran past made a break for it and locked himself into a small room, really a glorified closet with an open window.

Superman swooped in not moments later, and decked it out with the man-turned-beast, forced to freeze it with his breath to keep it from sucking his energy after pleading with it to let them peacefully take him to doctors so they could try to return him to a normal man again completely failed and it became apparent close combat wasn't a smart strategy either.

Luthor pointed a finger at the caped man, "I demand you turn yourself in for trespassing on Luthor-corp property immediately."

"Superman!" Lois exclaimed. "Can you stay for an interview?"

Superman, of course, did not oblige and instead took off into the sky before he could get mobbed.

A moment later, the sound of a turning knob alerted him to Clark stumbling out of the room, tripping over his own two feet. "S-sorry, is the monster gone?"

"The pink one, or the one in the cape? The former has been dealt with, the latter flew off, too good to deal with the rest of us. I'm going to kill him for that someday." Lex faux-smiled with contempt. "I like you, Clark. You're humble, a real hard working salt of the earth, you have to strive like the rest of us to reach for the sky. In short, you're everything he's not."

"So you remember me," Clark said uneasily.

"Tall clutzy boy who liked to read, with glasses? The only one who ever willingly sought out my company who wasn't out for my father's cash?" He tilted his head. "Hard to forget. But it's been a few years. You've bulked out since you were a teen, and you never used to slouch so much."

"And you've stayed almost identical," Clark said, with a resigned fondness he probably shouldn't be allowing himself to feel.

"Wait," Lois Lane interrupted, her reporter senses tingling. "Clark, you didn't tell me you _knew _Lex Luthor!"

Clark gave her an intentionally baffled look. "That was years ago, Lois, I doubted he'd even remember me. It was hardly worth mentioning that we both grew up in Smallville and crossed paths a few times."

"He may have saved my life, once," Luthor said, savoring the shocked look on Lois's face as she tried to balance between thinking of Clark as a hero and wanting to yell at him for doing something so foolish as saving such an evil man.

"What do you mean maybe?" Lois asked.

"He always insisted he would have managed okay without me," Clark shrugged, not one to really fight over such trivial things. "The county fair had a tornado, and he was trying to sell his personal possessions because his father had just cut him off from every dime and penny and he desperately wanted to get out of Smallville and start his own fortune without any help from dear old Dad. I got worried he was spending too much time trying to get his things, so I dragged him to a shelter." With exasperation, he added, "As well as grabbing all of his belongings so he wouldn't be penniless."

Luthor was eying him in a way he didn't really like, like he was an interesting specimen. Clark Kent was _not_ supposed to be the interesting one! "Yes, you could almost say that if not for Clark, I also might not be a businessman today," with the 'almost' implying he thought he'd find his own ingenious way shortly enough even with such a setback. It was a little out of character of him to say such things even with the almost, and Clark wondered why until he saw Lex's gaze flick to Lois with amusement at her torn expression. He was trying to drive the two of them apart! "You could also say he was the closest thing I had to a friend over there in that small insipid bit of nowhere. I know you have half a brain, Clark, so why not come work for me instead of the dying Daily Planet?" His gaze was still fixed on Lois, rather than shifting to Clark as one might expect at making such a proclamation - he was quite clearly saying it just to screw with her, his long term gnat stinging at his side.

"If you were really interested in having me work for you, Lex, you would have scouted me out when I was job searching." Clark shook his head, just as Lex's gaze came to fix upon him once again, thankfully looking far more disinterested in him this time. "No, I think the Daily Planet needs me, and I'm genuinely interested in reporting the truth. I really think we can turn this dying paper around."

"You were always a sucker for sob stories," Lex said, sounding far more bored now. "Like mine. But as you can see, I never needed or wanted your pity, and with my focus I am more successful than you will ever be."

"I didn't pity you, Lex. I just wanted to help," Clark said earnestly. "Like I want to help everyone. I know you don't believe me."

"It's funny, Clark, but I actually do. It just doesn't matter. The world isn't the idealistic place you think it is. You can't help everyone, and there are those who would simply crawl on you for trying."

"May we quote you on that?" Lois Lane held up her pen and paper, smiling.

Lex gave her a look of utmost disgust. "If you must. But let me add, if you are so interested in the truth, that LuthorCorp does help as much as is genuinely possible. In the real world, the rest of us must struggle with problems that the man impervious to bullets will never understand, and that is why I do not trust him. Why _we_ cannot trust him."

The sorry thing is, Clark had a weird suspicion that in some twisted way Luthor really believed that. That it was the cynical nature of reality that forced him to step on other people so often. That a man flying out of the sky like a miracle had to be too good to be true. Because no man had come to save him, from his alcoholic, abusive father. He'd had to save himself, and stand alone, and the act had permanently damaged his psyche.

Clark felt genuinely sorry for that.

He should have been there for him, and he hadn't been.

_.flashback._

* * *

_The scrawny boy looked over his collection of books in the library as Clark settled down to read the same book about aliens the boy had tried to sell at the Fair. "You again? I can save you some time. Yes, we are almost certainly not alone. No, xenobiology, as long as we have no actual direct evidence of alien life, is not a valid field. It's all guesswork and speculation."_

_"But parallel evolution is an observed phenomena on Earth," Clark rebutted. "It's unlikely aliens would not also be subject to Darwinian natural selection."_

_"So you do have half a brain in there," the way he said it, it did not sound the slightest complimentary. "That is true, up to a point. But the selection pressures on another planet could be entirely different. Earth-like planets may not even be the most common kind to render life: ocean world super Earths and moons around gas giants are far more common, and there's little knowing what life would look like there. And that's not even getting into the idea that life out there might inhabit places we think now are uninhabitable, something truly alien and exotic, maybe even non-carbon based."_

_"But that's also highly speculative. The only kind of life we have any reason to think exists is carbon. We haven't been able to get anywhere near the complexity with non-carbon compounds to assemble itself spontaneously the way we have with carbon. Comets and asteroids are littered with organic precursors. Carbon compounds. So, maybe, there could be life out there that looks just like us."_

_"Well, I was agreeing with you until that last part. The idea of humanoid life that looks exactly human is fairly ridiculous. There are much more common body plans that have evolved dozens of times on Earth, in comparison to the humanoid form that has evolved only once. It might be out there, due to the vast scale of the universe, but it's more likely it's so far away we'd never meet it," young Lex argued derisively. "Likely for the best, as considering our own history, it would probably be quite hostile. Or carry horrible invasives with it that wreak the planet."_

_"Not all contacts or people are violent," Clark protested. "With entirely different DNA, it's very unlikely the intruders would actually carry diseases that could affect us. It would be like getting sick from a pathogen that colonizes plants or bacteria, extremely unlikely. War of the Worlds was misleading and based on very early science."_

_"I'm not talking about just pathogens. Ferrets and rats introduced to islands can wipe out entire species. They could introduce some parasite or predator completely by accident that we've had no evolutionary experience dealing with, and die like a dodo experiencing a predator for the first time."_

_Clark shrank back. "That's... very cynical."_

_"That's the __scientifically __probable reality."_

_As Lex moved to check out, then walk out of the library, Clark spoke up hesitantly. "Do you... want to hang out sometime?"_

_Lex gave him a disdainful expression. "Why would I want to do that?"_

_Clark almost didn't answer in his frustration. To have a friend? To not be all alone as Lex clearly was? "To have someone with 'half a brain' to talk to? To share a meal with from time to time? You're saving money, right? It surely would only help if you let my Ma give you some of her wonderful meals sometime. She makes a mean pot pie."_

_The disdainful expression finally slipped from his face, considering. "I don't need help," he said, but it didn't have as much conviction as before._

_"I know, but it's nice to have, isn't it? Tomorrow, we can share lunch," Clark promised._

_"Alright." For someone so quick to proclaim the tooth and claw nature of the world, he looked awfully uneager to take advantage of Clark's offered kindness, and his agreement was reluctant and guarded._

_"Ma won't bean you with a club and bake you into a dodo pie, I swear,__ Lex__. I'm not luring you into a den of cannibals, you don't have to look at me like that."_

_That startled a short, genuine laugh from the boy, the first he'd heard from him. One of very few, actually, but at least it wasn't the last._

.

* * *

_.flashforward._

"Lois, a reporter should almost never _be_ the story. I hope I don't have to ask you-"

"Relax, Clark," she drawled and flopped the paper and pen on her desk. "I'm not going to splash 'LUTHOR FRIENDS WITH FARM BOY ONCE, MAY ACTUALLY HAVE HAD A FLICKER OF A SOUL BEFORE HE TRADED IT TO SATAN' on the front page," Clark tried to choke back a laugh, "Perry wouldn't let me even if I would. It's not nearly as interesting as the Superman story, in any case, and that quote we got from Luthor is more than enough to show what ruthless slime he is."

"The sad thing is, I think in some way he thinks he is doing the right thing."

"You're kidding," she nearly spat out her coffee.

"He's pretty amoral, and in that sense, if you really believed the world was like that, maybe you'd feel an obligation to take it over before someone else could step on you, someone even worse," he said softly. "It's a bit messed up, but I can understand why he became this way."

"He's _demented_, not just a little bit messed up, Kent!" Back to Kent, now. He'd twerked her chain. Lois was the last person who ever wanted to feel sympathy for Luthor. But she was also a reporter, so she narrowed her eyes and said, "You mentioned his father cut him off? What did he do, realize his son is a garbage slime pile before the rest of us? Good for him!"

Clark sighed. "Not quite. Lionel was not a good man, even worse than Lex Luthor if you can believe that." By her snort, he knew she couldn't. "He was at least as ruthless as Lex, but without his appreciation of science, and a raging alcoholic on top of that. He used to... beat Lex, but was careful never to leave too much evidence." Say what one liked about Lex and his string of dalliances, but at least he'd been careful never to have a kid he didn't want to take care of.

Lane swore, got up from her chair, and paced twice before turning to him again with her finger pointed at him. "Well, okay, so he has a sob story." _You were always a sucker for a sob story, Kent._ "So do many people, and they don't turn into raging psychopaths."

"I know. I'm not excusing his actions." Clark was aware he really wasn't making her his fan today. "I'm just saying he has a viewpoint beyond 'Mwahaha, time to be evil!''

"Evil people don't think of themselves as evil, but they still are, Kent. As long as you remember that." She took a long sip of coffee.

"Don't worry. I'm not about to write a happy puff piece on him." He hesitated. "Well, not unless he does a total 180 and completely turns his act around, and stops trying to kill Superman for good, and not just pretending to fake us out either."

"If he stops trying to kill Superman, I'll write him a puff piece myself," Lois scoffed. "It'll never happen. Superman has been in town for, what, three whole months? And Luthor has already tried to kill him multiple times."

Clark hunched his shoulders. He knew that. He knew. He just wished it wasn't like that.

.

* * *

.

Alien invasion was the disaster of the week, and Clark really should have gone in, when he spotted Lex in trouble, as Superman. But damn it all if he could turn away when Lex looked at him with such desperation as his weapons were failing on him, managing to spot him and say, "Where is that bravery you showed in that tornado, Kent?"

_He knew you before. It would seem out of character if you didn't at least hesitate now, and he'd wonder what had changed, _he consoled himself, trying to reassure as he whirled around and ran to Lex and the rubble that he was really doing the right thing to not run away and come back as Superman. He made a show of using his mass - he was a big guy, after all - rather than just his brute strength to knock the alien approaching Lex down, then grabbed Lex's weapon and shot it one more time, turning his head and back to the other man so Lex wouldn't see him augmenting the blast with his heat vision. The alien soldier squealed and died, turning into a puddle of white goo.

"Like a dodo meeting a club for the first time," Lex muttered to himself, and it took Clark a moment to recognize the reference as he lifted a bit of rubble off Lex, making a show of wheezing and straining as he did it.

"I think they even came from Mars," Clark said, causing Lex to look at him properly. "No sign of cross contamination by germs, though, so I was right on that one," he joked, trying to leaven the mood. "Can you walk?"

"I can limp," Lex said, the scathing note directed more at himself than at Clark, who helped him up. "_He_ brought them here."

There was only one _He_ in Lex's vocabulary, when he talked like that. "Superman?" Clark said, confused as he guided them to a makeshift shelter. "I'm pretty sure this is a totally different species. He's from Krypton, not Mars."

"Not directly, you fool. But having one alien here, it's like carrying a giant road sign declaring Earth is open to stellar business. He paved the way for them to infiltrate in, taking us off guard, making us think other aliens would be harmless." A dark look was in his eyes, completely unfocused from Clark despite staring in his direction. "_I_ was right. All my genius, and I couldn't even fight off the alien menace."

"Hey, we haven't all been baked into pot pies yet!" Clark mock-complained, and gave him a cheery smile as he helped sit him down in the relative safety of the shelter. "I think it's too soon to say that it's not going to be alright."

"And where are you basing this overflowing optimism on? Please," Lex begged, "Don't say Superman will save us."

"No, I won't say that." He knew how much Lex would hate it. "Maybe _I _will save you," Clark said pithily, moving back toward the entrance.

"Right," Lex said sarcastically. "Good luck on that one." Then his smile dropped. "Are you really leaving the safety of the shelter to go out there?"

_Where's your cowardice, Clark?_

He heard the unspoken question, and made a show of frightful hesitation, turning his head around and biting his lip. "I-it's not like I want to! But someone has to get the story." That was the facade he'd tight-walked himself into now. The reluctantly brave coward. No other act would be bought, would make sense against the evidence so far presented of his character. And then, for God* knew only what reason, he found himself stupidly adding on to it, "You know Lex, if you wanted, we could hang out sometime."

Lex looked totally bewildered, despite the familiarity of the banter. "Hang out?" And then, as if everything was on repeat today, said, "Whatever for?"

"Well, you certainly don't need anyone to make you meals any more," Clark said thoughtfully. "But I still think Mum's recipe for chicken soup is the best in the world when you aren't feeling well, and you've got a banged up leg right now. And as it happens, I know the recipe." And even if he didn't, he could fly there and back in minutes, but Lex didn't have to know that.

Lex stared at him in such a way that for a minute, Clark was afraid he had started to look alien rather than just incidentally _be_ alien. It was true his offer was completely ridiculous, Clark and Lex were essentially enemies now even if not mortal ones the way Superman and Luthor were (and oy, did that make his head hurt) with the Daily Planet never failing to take an opportunity to print a negative article about him, and Clark was an honest (well, relatively honest) reporter on a lowly salary and Lex a ruthless business man with practically as many riches as you could ever dream for. They had almost nothing in common these days.

And yet, Clark had invited Lex to eat soup with him. _Soup._

He half expected Lex to yell and tell him only farm boy plebeians like Clark eat humble chicken soup, the rich dine on caviar and wine, that he was asking something of him far below his station. But he didn't.

Instead, he looked rather broken. "Why not? We're all going to be dead or enslaved soon, so why not agree to a tomorrow that will never come to pass?"

So melodramatic. So _very him_. Just because Lex couldn't defeat them didn't mean the entire day was ruined or all of humanity doomed!

"It's-" hm, not a _date_, he was still interested in Lois and would have to be insane to go with Luther, "an appointment!"

And then before he could do anything even more stupid, he forced himself to go out into the chaos, and meet up with the beginnings of the Justice League who were already there and struggling to try and handle the disaster. If he hadn't known other superheroes were out there, he wouldn't have spent half the time he had, guilt over being unable to save Lex from his father or not.

_.flashback._

* * *

_The first time he saw young Lex wince from bruises hidden under his shirt, and realized who had done it to him, was the first time Clark had ever felt the urge to murder someone._

_It was a terrifying feeling._

_"Don't." Lex insisted. "Don't do anything. You can't, anyway. He has a team of bodyguards nearby at all times because, affable and saintly man that he is, he's made a ton of enemies, and his lawyers would eat you alive even if you _could_ get past them. Which you can't."_

_Clark bit his lip. But oh, he could. If only Lex knew how he could, he'd scream at him for standing so idly by all the time. He'd never trust Clark again. Although, honestly, he wasn't sure if he trusted Clark now. He'd only told him because Lex hated saying anything stupid like 'I fell down the stairs', and it was abundantly obvious someone had done this to him._

_"Ma's chicken soup will make you feel better, I'm sure of it." Stuffing him with hospitality was the only thing he knew for sure how to do, if he couldn't punch the man responsible._

_"Clark," Lex said exasperatedly. "You know that's for the flu, not child abuse, right?"_

_"It can't hurt, right?"_

_Lex rolled his eyes._

* * *

_flashforward._

He wasn't too surprised when Luthor actually showed up at his apartment, although he was surprised that Lex had, for him, come somewhat incognito, arriving helmeted on a motorcycle instead of in a limo. It reminded him of Lex, the first time he'd made his own real significant amount of money, coming speeding by the farm and nearly hitting him off the road in the process, which would have been one way of unveiling his secret identity far more successful than any plan Luthor had actually managed to come up with. Actually, he wasn't sure Lex even suspected him of something so mundane as 'walking among mortals' each day like he was one of them, from the way he often ranted.

His bodyguard Mercy was with him, and gave him a very confused look. "This is where we were headed? This dingy place?" she said with disgust, surveying the apartment complex and already surmising Clark's place would be lucky to have more than three or four rooms. Not, frankly, that he needed that much space. A bathroom, a bedroom, and a living room combined with a kitchen were all he needed.

"I lost a bet, of sorts," Luthor said dryly. The truth was, Lex could be a man of his word, in his own twisted way. If he promised to do something, like chase you to the ends of the earth, he generally would. "If you really wish, you may leave." Now that was unusual. Mercy made a protesting noise. "Clark Kent would never leave me decapitated in an alleyway, and no one else knows we are here. Or wait outside." To that, Mercy dipped her head in agreement, but still spared one last look of disgust at the apartment.

Clark tolerated their snottiness like only someone with a true reporter's patience could. "Well, come on in, the soup won't take long to warm up at all. We could watch War of Worlds," he said with amusement, "if you like, or something else if that's a little too recent a reminder."

"Clark, why did you really invite me here?"

"I just want to see everyone happy," Clark admitted. "Even you."

"You are the human incarnation of a golden retriever," Lex shook his head, like Clark was unbelievable. "Somehow, the world produced a man like you."

Clark tried to suppress a wince at the exact phrasing. Human, not exactly. Would Lex take it as evidence of his defectiveness if he knew the truth? Maybe his forgiving nature wasn't totally human. Hadn't Kryptonians been selectively breeding themselves to have only a small soldier class and avoid war for hundreds of years? It was embarrassing, but maybe he really was the equivalent of a golden retriever. Without knowing any other Kryptonians for comparison, he'd never know for sure. But he couldn't let himself get suspiciously glum for no reason. Not, especially, when Lex himself looked rather under the weather. He had to be a good host, so he put on a smile.

He let them in to the small place, offered to take Lex's jacket, and set the soup on.

"How are you, Lex? You seem a little depressed. Would you like some hot cocoa, or some other beverage?"

"Coffee, if you have it. It's pretty much all I drink these days." The statement matched the bags under his eyes.

"I remember how you like it," Clark said. "Still with cream?" he double checked.

"Still with cream," Lex confirmed.

"Is War of Worlds alright? Or did you want to just be in and out? The soup should be done pretty quickly, but I know this really short Japanese animation we could watch instead while we wait, although I haven't seen it myself yet so I have no idea how good it is."

"War of Worlds is fine," Luthor said, but his gaze and voice said that everything was not, in fact, fine. "It can be a reminder."

Now Clark planted himself in front of Lex, offended. "I did not invite you here just so you could mope. We'll watch something else."

And they did. Lex would scrunch his nose up occasionally whenever something he thought was completely inane appeared in the anime, which was often, but at least he wasn't moping when he did that. He got engrossed enough at grouching at the characters for their vast stupidity that he barely noticed when Clark finally pressed the bowl of soup into his hands.

A part of Clark wondered if it was entirely sane, cheering him up, if the end result was probably just going to be to inspire him to try and come up with another plot against Superman. Making someone happy just to have them murder you later was not a very sound plan, even by Clark's often very on the spot improvisational standards. But it wasn't like he was egging him on to go do that, either, and Lex had been his friend, sort of, once.

And this meeting was just this once, right? Just a freak event where they both pretended to be normal for a change.

"That was a terrible movie, Clark. The characters were inane beyond all measure. And their eyes," Lex shuddered. "They were so huge, glittery and horrifying."

"Oh, admit it, you liked listing to yourself all the ways they should have died horribly! Don't pretend I didn't hear you." Clark laughed. "It wasn't that bad a feature."

"If that is your taste, then you really need to watch a genuinely refined movie, so you can see what you are missing out. Like Psycho, or Citizen Kane."

"The sad Rosebud is the sled movie?" Clark's eyebrows knitted together. "I can't say I've ever watched that one."

"It shows," Lex said with his typical dryness, a relaxed humor in his eyes, as he moved to grab his jacket. "It's an appointment, then."

Clark faltered, completely taken off guard that there would actually be a second time of this. "I don't have that movie, so does that mean... your place?"

Lex looked considering, more reluctant and guarded now as the full implications of what this might mean raced through his mind. "I suppose. You will _not _abuse our appointment to snoop."

"I would never." If Lex wasn't trying to kill Superman on those days, then Clark was more than glad for the vacation. "On those days, anyway," he said, trying to make it clearer where they stand. This was just a break, a temporary truce for those times only, a salve to when the unrelenting war started becoming too much to take. "No promises for when we don't have an 'appointment'."

On every other day, he tried to remind himself, they would be enemies.

.

* * *

Going there felt awkward, even in his best suit he felt totally out of place in the vast luxury, and Clark Kent really had no excuse to be there if he _wasn't _snooping. On the other hand, he was not exactly famous and it was easier for him to go in with barely any notice than it was for Lex to swing by his own place.

"Lex, I'm curious, why did you ask me over? Was my lack of cultured taste really such a horrible disappointment to the world that you had to mend it yourself right away?"

Lex looked at him flatly, expression unyielding, and decreed, "The absolute worst."

It was in moments like this, with Lex's dry humor, that he genuinely liked the man and wondered why they couldn't just get along.

.

* * *

.

It was hard going back to being mortal enemies, or even just reporter and nefarious reportee, harder than Clark had realized it would be. He tried not to look hurt the first time after their meetings that he had to fight Lex again, or to look too conflicted in the aftermath when Lois and Clark tried to interview the man. And he definitely tried not to panic when Lex looked at him with too-interested eyes and remarked, "Strange how your cowardice comes and goes, aye Clark?" He knew the man was saying it just to heckle him, but he also really didn't want that to be something Luthor thought about too deeply, lest he connect him to Superman. Then their friendship really would be over forever.

Lois looked between them, reporter's ears twitching. "Clark. You still call him Clark?"

The humor on Lex's face vanished, as the man realized he had made a mistake. He would not be so open in front of her in the future. "Yes. As I call you Lois, despite our last date being ages ago," he swiftly and smoothly amended the situation. Lois's face screwed up in annoyance at the reminder of dating that 'human slime'.

But it took a little more than that to deflect her attention. "Yes, our date. Just how close were you and Clark?" she asked, switching her questions away from the normally more interesting aftermath of a battle with Superman, which made him worry she had caught a scent like a bloodhound.

"Not like _date _close, Lois!" Clark blanched. Although he tried not to judge those sorts of things, and would never stop anyone from loving who they wanted, growing up in the rural South he'd had a hard time not internalizing such phobias against himself. He didn't know how his father would feel if he ever came out as gay, or, considering his previous interest in women, bisexual, and the thought gave him a tinge of worry. He never wanted to do anything to upset his parents, ever. He loved them too deeply.

"As such a crusader for justice, you don't really think there is something wrong with that, do you Clark?" Lex asked, toying with them again, as this set Lois to glaring at Clark if he so much as considered for a second saying something bigoted.

"No, of course not!" he held up his hands as if to ward them away, really flustered. "I'm just not gay, is all. Or bi."

"Sometimes the loudest denial indicates denial of a different kind," Lex teased, and made Lois snort with amusement, before looking appalled at herself for having any agreement whatsoever on anything with Luthor, however tiny.

"Come on Clark," she wound her arm around his. "We aren't getting anything out of him today." As they walked away, she asked, "Is it just me, or is Lex more... I can't quite put my finger on it. Playful than usual?"

"He did dangle Superman over a very absurd magma death trap in a most Bond villain fashion instead of trying to finish him off immediately like usual," Clark agreed. "Maybe he was just bored or wanted to try something different since the other approaches hadn't worked. Although I really wish he hadn't tried to summon a volcano right in the middle of Metropolis. I mean, that's not got to be any good for his property values, am I right?"

"I suppose. He's never really cared that much about breaking his own things," Lois remarked. "It's why I want you to be very careful around him."

"What? Me?" Clark gave her a befuddled look.

"Don't give me the clueless farm boy act. I see it in your eyes, deep down you still want to be friends with him and his behavior pains you like a personal insult, heck knows why. But don't you do it, Clark Kent. He's not _worth _you."

Guilty, he looked away. "I just want everyone to be happy and get along. Is that really so terrible to wish for?"

She pursed her lips. "No. But it's exactly why he doesn't deserve you. Because I can guarantee you, Lex Luthor doesn't wish for anything of the sort. He wants the world to worship at his feet, and his enemies to eat themselves alive, for all of them to be the same sad lonely power hungry bastard he is, because I've never met a man who projects his own flaws on to other people like Lex Luthor does." Then she laughed. "Except maybe you, and you have so few flaws besides your cowardice and clumsiness that you risk thinking everyone is a saint, which is a flaw in and of itself."

"Hey!" He was fairly sure he should protest that. "I'm sure I have some other flaws."

"Yes," she said sincerely. "Your biggest one is that you care about Lex Luthor. It's the same flaw Superman has, oddly enough, the man just won't let him die even when his own follies set him up perfectly for it."

"Lois," he said, concerned. "The law has to judge Lex Luthor's crimes, not Superman."

"Yes, but it wouldn't hurt him to simply... not save him, from his own awful magma trap, sometime."

Clark couldn't help but protest. "That seems like a really awful way to die."

"Exactly, so he shouldn't have tried to set it on other citizens. It's exactly what he deserves, Clark," Lois said fiercely. "Exactly. Don't forget that he's_ evil,_ Clark."

He sighed, not wanting to talk about this anymore. "Let's just get Dinky Doughnuts for Jimmy and the rest of the office again."

Was anyone truly evil? Or were they just, messed up in the head in a way they couldn't help? Only the Joker, one might argue, was crazy enough to choose insanity. Thankfully, he was Batman's problem, not his, and even Batman had decided not to kill his villain. He was hardly about to choose a path darker than Batman, lord of brooding himself.

But she was right. Was he forgetting that Lex truly wasn't a good man? Why was he doing this to himself, when it ate him up inside?

.

* * *

.

Batman was kind of nuts, but ultimately a good man despite being on the less savory edge of vigilantism. Clark still couldn't believe he'd strapped a bomb to himself, just so Superman wouldn't know he was lying when he said if Clark took him in, an innocent would die if he pressed a button! But one thing he said to him kind of stuck with him, after he expressed his sympathies to Magpie, one of Batman's villains who was less than mentally stable and broke down in tears when they caught her, proclaiming she just wanted pretty things.

"You feel sorry for her, but I feel sorrier for her victims."

Batman was right, of course. But Clark was about to get a reminder of just how right he was.

Lex kidnapped Lana Lang, and interrogated her, tortured her with drugs despite her body's low tolerance for it, and ransacked his parents' home leaving Clark scared he'd killed or kidnapped them, because he became convinced Clark Kent and Superman had some kind of connection. It was stupid: the connection was staring him in the face, all along. But Lex simply couldn't believe it, even when a computer analyzed and spit it out for him as the most likely possibility, that Clark Kent was Superman. For once, Clark was tempted to tell him the truth, to spit it in his face. He was so angry, and afraid. How could he do this to him? To other townsfolk he'd grown up with?

Clark's relationship with Lana, like with Pete, had fallen into disrepair after his reveal of his powers. Lana hadn't been able to take it, she claimed he'd 'ripped the world away' from her, when the moment she thought he would confess love to her he confessed his _alieness_ to her and the world instead. That hadn't been the way he'd meant for her to take his reveal at all, but Clark would be the first to admit that sometimes he could be truly socially clueless. Lois had to save him from getting scammed on more than one occasion, because he just didn't _see _that in people unless it was blindingly obvious even to an innocent farm boy what was going on.

This was pretty obvious, and yet... it hurt all the same.

"Lex, how could you do this to me? If you wanted to know those things, if you had wanted to see my birth certificate, you could have just _asked me. _I would have given them to you, as long as you promised to give them back when you were done looking," he protested hotly, this time not as Superman but as Clark Kent. He didn't really even care about Lex going after Superman, his alter ego was nigh invulnerable and didn't matter that much to him because as far as he was concerned, Superman was a mask. But other people? And Clark, his real self, after he thought maybe they were making progress?

That hurt.

Lex looked slightly surprised, like Clark just _giving _him the information he'd wanted had never occurred to him. "Then tell me. What's your connection to Superman?"

Clark couldn't help it, he laughed. "Isn't it obvious, Lex? And does the exact nature of that connection really matter to you? Whether we're friends, brothers, neighbors or just acquaintances? You just want to know how to use me. But you can't. I've told him not to interfere when we meet, not to rescue me. I don't really want him looking in when I'm meeting up with you, wondering if I'm doing something wrong." He shrugged. Great, now he was describing his internal struggles with himself in third person. "And I don't want him on the discussion table when we meet for lunch, either. You know that would ruin the neutrality of our meetings. Are those over, Lex? Because you ambushing my parents makes me think you want this to be over."

Lex looked like he had rather mixed feelings about this. "You... told him not to look in on us?"

"Yes, Lex," for a certain definition of tell. "Haven't you noticed Superman never swoops in to harass you when I'm there?" Although that mostly because Lex genuinely wasn't up to anything nefarious while Clark was there watching him. You didn't get more innocuous than eating popcorn.

Lex looked a mixture of pleased and suspicious. "Then you have more sway with him than I thought."

Clark resisted the urge to face palm at the mono-focus on Superman. "He's not the real reason I came here. I'm angry about what you did to Ma and Pa. And Lana. Lex, you could have _killed_ Lana, she's not that drug tolerant! And you can't just kidnap and truth serum people whenever you feel like it!"

"But I did not. Your parents were completely unharmed, merely knocked unconscious for a little while." He paused, then fiddled with something in his pocket for a moment, then held out a key. "Here. Take back your things from the room this unlocks. I don't need them anymore."

Clark sighed. Trust Lex to weasel, then show off some meaningless 'gift' to smooth things over. "I don't really care about my things. I care about my family. I can get a replacement birth certificate, I can't get a replacement identical Ma and Pa. Don't you ever do that again, Lex."

Lex got a funny look in his eyes like he often did when he was thinking about science. "Suppose you could get a replacement for your parents-"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence, Lex. I don't want to hear it!" He made an X with his arms.

"What do you want?" Lex's eyes glittered dangerously. "Money? Favors? Women? Or perhaps, men?"

"No, Lex! When will you learn I don't care about those sorts of things? I just want you to apologize and promise you'll never do it again."

Lex stared at him like he was the one who went around kidnapping people and stealing their things. "You want me to apologize," he said flatly.

"Yes."

"And to promise never to do it again."

"Yes. Why is this such a difficult concept for you?"

"Promises and apologies are empty words, Clark. You can't trust them," Lex insisted. It was always kind of strange, the way Lex would sometimes undermine himself like that, if he were more interested in being truly manipulative he shouldn't have explained the manipulation. It was, he supposed, a sign of Lex's compulsive need to have everyone agree with him. Or even Lex's strange way of being protective of Clark, if he squinted, trying to tell the naive sheep how the world really worked.

_Lionel would promise not to beat Lex ever again._

_Then he would, again and again._

"I want to hear it anyway."

"Fine." Lex set down his wine glass. "I am sorry, and I promise not to knock your parents unconscious again."

"Or kidnap them or kill them."

"I never did that."

"Lex..."

"Fine, or kidnap them or kill them. Happy?"

"Yes." Clark gave him a radiant smile. "Or, more than before. I'm still not happy about how you treated Lana. She was just an innocent bystander."

"My men caught her by accident," Lex dismissed. "She was not an original target, and she knew nothing of interest. I have no reason to go after her again." That was, for Lex, probably as good as it was going to get.

"Alright," Clark said, deciding he had enough of being angry for now. It only did so much good, and he'd frankly gotten more out of Lex than he'd been expecting. "I'll get my things and cool off. Maybe see you next weekend if there isn't some natural disaster?"

Lex laughed. "Clark, there is always a natural disaster."

"No, no, sometimes, most of the time, it's an _unnatural_ disaster. But you are right, that option might be even worse for my schedule."

"We could watch Sailor Moon again."

"Goodness no, Clark. That was a disaster. Although I did approve of the villains preying on foolishness. I would prefer Dexter."

"Only you, Lex, only you." Clark shuddered. "That show was a bit gore filled for my taste, how about a compromise - one of the many iterations of Sherlock Holmes?"

"Many of those cases aren't as coherent or as brilliant as they are supposed to be." But he did not actually say no.

"Of course not, Lex, they are fiction and it's hard to find real life geniuses who want to waste their time writing fictional murder cases."

"Point. Would you like some brie or wine before you go?"

"Ah, no, you know me, I'm not really a drinker." Clark waved off.

He couldn't believe he was still hanging out with this guy. _Clark Kent, if you weren't practically made of steel, someone should be real worried about you. _And maybe they should just for his sanity. _Kent, you are completely hopeless._

.

* * *

.

The first time Lois walked in on them having lunch in his apartment, she first looked horrified and then really exasperated. "Clark Kent, didn't I tell you exactly _not to do this?"_

"Not to feed him in my apartment?" he pretended stupidity, which frankly might not be far off from the truth.

"Not to befriend him!" she exclaimed. "And he's a billionaire, he can feed himself! He's not a stray cat you have to take in the moment he mewls at you!" Then she paused and looked at all the stray cats currently inhabiting Clark's apartment. Plus one dog. "Speaking of..."

"The no-kill shelter was overflowing, I couldn't do nothing," he pleaded.

"Make Lex take them in, he certainly has enough money to open many shelters several times over," Lois grouched, and then handed a perplexed Lex Luthor a box-full of kittens, then shoved him out the door with them.

"Don't manhandle me!" he hissed. "And I do not mewl!"

"Not even for Clark?" she sassed, completely unafraid. She closed the door on him and whirled around. "And you! Clark Kent, you are the biggest idiotic lunkhead in the Universe! What were you thinking?"

And that was how Lex Luthor ended up opening a new shelter for homeless animals. Clark misheard this as Shelter for Hopeless Animals, and the name stuck, especially after Lois announced that this suited Clark perfectly and he clearly belonged there, because he was clearly pretty hopeless.

.

* * *

.

One time, when Clark walked in looking like shit, he thought it said something how once this wouldn't have garnered the slightest reaction from Lex, but now he looked furious. Then again, Lex always had the capacity to be possessive.

"Who did this to you?"

_Indirectly, you, when you decided to give away the secret of Kryptonite to all my enemies._

"Metallo. Some of us don't handle the miss-aimed blasts of radiation as well as others," he coughed. "I think I've always been kind of, uh, weak constitution, and allergic. I might have to skip today, unless you mind me crashing on your couch?" He stumbled and sat. "Okay, I guess I am crashing..."

"Metropolis is mine. No one should operate without my expressed permission." Of course that was what Lex took away from this. Of course it was. "The only one allowed to kill you is me."

"I'm sorry, what?" Did he hear that right? That was just messed up. "I thought you only talked like that about Superman." He wasn't starting to get obsessed with both identities, was he?

But Lex wasn't paying much attention to him, which probably was for the best as he'd mistakenly brought up the topic of Superman again, and that was a great way to get Lex ranting. "I'll have to have a word with Metallo. Tell him to be more careful about where he's aiming on _my streets." _Yeah, and to only aim at Superman? That would be such a big fat help.

Clark gave an involuntary pained groan and sank against the cushions. They were rather nice cushions, he reflected.

Lex turned his attention back to him. "I can get you a doctor. I have the best doctors in the world on payroll, might as well get my money's worth."

Clark sat straight up. "No, no doctors! I'm allergic to doctors." That was exactly the last thing in the world he needed.

"You're hard to figure out, Clark. You run out into a tornado without blinking, but an alien invasion shakes you, and a single mutant sends you running in terror," Lex said slowly, pacing nearer and making Clark nervous. "It doesn't add up. It doesn't make sense."

"People can be erratic?"

"Don't phrase that as a question. You are a terrible liar, Clark." _If only you knew_. "You do it to hide who you really are, don't you?" Clark gulped. "You want people to underestimate you, to think you weaker than you are. I approve. I had no idea you had it in you to be so conniving. But what is it you really want, if you've been hiding all this time?" He moved close to Clark, a dangerous edge in his voice. "Have you been playing me, Clark?"

They locked gazes.

"N-no! You know I don't want money or all of that other stuff, Lex. I don't know if it means anything to you, but, I've always wanted to be your friend. Just like old times. Remember, Lex? You had nothing to give, but I gave to you, anyway."

Lex was the first to look away. "I remember. I always thought it was so foolish." He gave a ragged laugh. "And what good did it come to? I killed _him_, you know." The first man he had hated, more than any other in the world, who had seemed godlike in his control over his life. "Took out the insurance money on him through a loop hole in his cut off of my inheritance, and wrangled out ownership of the old company share by share the hard way, cutting down all the other board members who got in my way."

Clark sucked in a breath, wanting to hug him but at the same time knowing he would probably not appreciate it and just push him away. "I always suspected."

"You must hate me Clark. Must be glad you finally dragged out that confession of murder you've always been waiting for."

"No, I'm not," Clark insisted, shaking his head. "For that one, _I don't blame you_ Lex. I don't blame you at all. You were just a boy." He clenched his fist. "And I wasn't there for you. And I should have been."

"But you were. You made me soup when no one else would, bandaged my wounds when no one else would, gave me a place to hide when no one else would, and most astoundingly, put up with my snideness when no one else would. I _know_ I wasn't pleasant company, at first, because I tried to say things to hurt you on purpose!"

"I should have done more. I shouldn't have left you to deal with him yourself. I should have dragged you home and never let you go back there again."

"You couldn't, Clark. You would have gotten in trouble legally, if Lionel didn't just kill you. You may be a lot of things, but you aren't Superman."

Clark's eyes closed. "That's why you hate him, isn't it? Because you didn't get saved by him."

Lex startled. "No, God no Clark! That never crossed my mind. Superman wasn't even _around_ back then. That's not why I hate him at all. Don't you ever listen to me rant? I'll tell you why I hate him. Because he's too perfect. Because he doesn't have to struggle and hurt like the rest of us. Because I don't trust him, or any man that is not myself with such unlimited power. Because, and I'll be honest for once, I'm jealous of him. I strove to have everything, he has it without even trying, it's just not fair, which is funny because I don't even believe in fairness, yet he's always trying to shove the concept down our throats and ensuring we can never forget it. He's a mockery to all hard work in the world, Clark."

A weird mixture of relief and self loathing flooded Clark at the same time. "Of course. That's what you've been saying all this time. But Lex... you might not trust him, but, would you trust me?" _Please?_

Lex went very still. "With _unlimited_ power, Clark? Even with you, that's a bit much."

"It's not truly unlimited," Clark corrected, but knew it made no real practical difference. His shoulders sagged. Should he leave? What difference was he making? Lex was never going to stop hating him, the other-him. He was never going to trust him. He was never going to be not-broken. Just like one would never be able to get rid of all crime and suffering or cure every mental illness.

But. Maybe that was alright. Maybe one did not have to fix everything. Maybe you didn't have to save everyone, or stop all crime. Maybe it wasn't his fault for not being as perfect as Lex kept claiming he was, for not stopping it all in time.

What mattered was that you tried.

He hugged Lex, then, even knowing the other would stiffen under it reflexively, not used to being touched, because he didn't really have words just then to express himself, didn't know how else to say it, and let go quickly, his eyes slightly wet. He wasn't even sure what he was saying. That he cared. That it was all going to be okay, even if he was bitterly disappointed.

That it was okay that it was not okay, as paradoxical as that was.

"I'm sorry, Lex."

_I'm so sorry that I can't fix you._

.

* * *

.

When they finally nail him on something enough to send him to jail for a moderate time, Clark is equal parts grieved and relieved. Relieved that this is finally over. Grieved that this is finally over, unless he escapes. Which, considering who he is, seems probable if he ever decides he doesn't want to play nice in hopes of early parole and getting back his company. As it is, the few short years he'll be in there seem both too long and impossibly brief for all he has done, and they know in many ways he's gotten off very easy.

"Do you want me to visit you?" Clark asks.

"No, I don't want you to see me weak. Powerless." He paused. "Though I am never truly powerless as long as I still have my mind."

"I've already seen you weak," Clark pointed out. "Don't want me to see, or don't want me seen by other people? I'm a big guy, I can take care of myself."

Lex shook his head, and turned to let them march him away in cuffs.

Lois doesn't understand his grief, or his strange need to drag in stray kittens pulled out from trees or urge to befriend strange homeless men who looked drugged and half deranged like they wanted to stab someone in a cracked up frenzy, but she was always supportive. Her hand finds its way to his tall broad shoulder and gives it a squeeze.

He is somehow not surprised when his depression is interrupted by Luthor breaking out in under a week, plotting yet again how to kill Superman.

Somehow, in spite of everything, nothing really changed.

Somehow, in spite of that, he still loved him as his old friend.

.

* * *

_Note: *I don't usually write religious characters but Clark is, being a typical Kansas boy, and it fits him to be blindly faithful, especially my puppy golden retriever in human form version. Luthor, on the other hand, I can't see as anything but an atheist like myself unless he stared face to face with a God, and then he'd stare at them in contempt and ask them what a fucked up job they thought they were doing. In Man of Steel Luthor outright says he's not religious._

_I originally intended this as serious fic but at some point, the moment Clark decided to invite him for lunch again, it started turning rather more silly. Then it got sad again._

_There are some people in this world you really just can't fix. Most 'fix it attempt' fics focus on how you can, so this ended up turning into something of an antidote. That doesn't mean you have to hate that person or wish them unwell, although it does mean you should put restraints on them to prevent them from causing more harm. Our society doesn't really know how to handle broken people very well, it tends to simply condemn them. But this can easily turn into a terrible cycle of broken sons and broken fathers, a mere band aid plastered over each time that ignores systemic issues._

_...or you could just ignore this and punch all the bad people, I guess._


	2. Chapter 2

**Friendship tinged with madness**

_a/n: Why is it I almost always get reviews telling me my story is better than expected? I mean... are my summaries really that horrible, or is this people's way of saying they always have below average expectations for fics and get surprised when they are okay?  
_

_Anyway, I wasn't expecting to update this, I was actually going to leave it as an implied tragedy, but I had a little extra muse pop up and actually got a review asking for more, so, okay, why not. Why I am updating a story with two reviews instead of one of the ones with over twenty I have no idea... just impulse.  
_

_I think I'll move this at least temporarily to the Smallville fandom since that seems to have the most active Lex and Clark fics, so it'll have a chance of actually getting an audience, and because it does have a Smallville inspired part in the 'grew up together' bit even if it is pretty AU for that fandom (they didn't meet from Clark getting run over, but instead a meeting inspired from one of the comic books, as described last chapter, and this Lex was prickly from the beginning) so might as well give people from that fandom a chance to discover this at least temporarily.  
_

_Mild warning, this gets even further AU as of this chapter as I try to make our aliens a little bit more genuinely alien. Poor Clark. I warn people who like dark and edgy Clark that they are going to get, like, basically the complete opposite. This is giant sugary floofball give-you-diabetes Clark who gets moral anxiety over not giving all his money and personal belongings to abandoned house pets and hobos and wishes he didn't have to swat mosquitoes, completely different from modern edgy 'almost kill Batman' Clark.  
_

_._

* * *

.

"Luthor is a psychopath," Lois groused. "Who knows what he's up to now that he's on the loose?"

"Sociopath, actually," Clark corrected. Lois gave him a weird look. "If psychopath refers to individuals whose tendencies are innate, and sociopath to those who developed such due to their environment, then I have to say Lex is, in my experience, not psychopathic. He learned his behavior from his father, who was pretty abusive." Clark felt slightly uncomfortable, wondering if it was really his place to say exactly what Lionel had done, but decided being vague was probably perfectly fine. After all, it didn't take much digging to guess that relations between the two hadn't been perfectly happy, even if one might not necessarily guess that Lionel had actually beaten him in a drunken rage. "He's honestly not that sociopathic either; he never engaged in petty theft or tortured small animals. His real problem is that he's a paranoid narcissist. That's a different condition, even if it can lead to similar results. He really believes he's the good guy in his head."

"That's right, you grew up together," Lois was giving him curious looks again. "I keep wondering just how close you two were, especially since he showed up at your apartment just to hang out. Lex Luthor wouldn't do that for just anybody. Honestly, I think you're the only person in the world."

"He lost a bet, sort of. When the alien invasion came, since he couldn't stop it, he thought the world would end, since relying on Superman to save us all was too much for him to imagine." No matter how many times it happened. "So he agreed to come over when I invited him tomorrow, if there was a tomorrow. He has a weird sense of pride," Clark explained. "That explains it, that's all there is to it, really. I don't think he really cares about me." He'd resigned himself to it. If Lex wasn't angry over him not saving him, but simply because of an obsession with making sure he was more powerful than everyone else so they could never hurt him, there really wasn't anything Clark or Superman could ever do to reach him. Lex was like one of the hungry feral cats Clark dragged into his apartment off of the raining streets to give a warm meal because he just couldn't help himself, even when they bit and scratched at him.

"You actually invited him?" Lois exclaimed. "What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking he looked injured and... not much else," Clark said, abashed.

"So you were possessed by the desire to play nursemaid to a man who probably wouldn't have thought much of pointing a death ray at you?" Lois started to chuckle in exasperation. "Goodness, Clark. You really are hopeless. Well, if there's one thing I'm glad of, it's that he's gone from your life. Superman will catch him again, throw him in jail, and you'll never have to see him again."

.

* * *

Oh, he saw him again alright.

Of all the things Clark had been expecting, it had not been for Lex Luthor to just show up at his apartment again completely nonchalant, like he _wasn't_ on the run.

"Lex!" he exclaimed. "What the tarnation are you doing here?" he almost swore, but managed to restrain himself. Lex looked amused, although whether it was from his word choice or his surprise Clark didn't know. Maybe it was both.

"Well, I figured this was one place no one would ever think to look for me, especially Superman." That was painfully correct. Of course, it kind of negated the advantage since he _was _Superman and this was where he lived... But Lex still thought Superman lived in the Fortress of Solitude. Why anyone would want to live in an icicle Clark wasn't sure, although it was admittedly a lot nicer after he'd added his zoo of endangered alien species to it and ways of keeping them warm.

"Lex, I can't keep you here. You're a criminal." Clark ran his fingers through his own hair, frustrated. "And I'm a reporter. I have to tell the truth."

"Come now, Clark. You can't do me one little favor? I'll owe you one."

Suddenly, it occurred to Clark that this might actually be for the best. If Luthor disappeared again, and he certainly was good at slipping away, then Clark would have no idea what he was up to or what he was doing. But if he was right here, right under his eyes, he could watch him and keep him out of trouble... "Alright, fine, but no building anything to kill anyone or hurt Superman while you are here, okay?"

Luthor rolled his eyes. "Fine. I will not build weapons of alien destruction in your dingy little apartment which barely has the resources of a shoe-box." _I will just build them somewhere else,_ was the unfortunate implication Clark was hoping he was only imagining. He pulled out some half-built machine and fiddled with it.

"What's that, then?" Clark asked, wary.

"Not something that's going to kill anyone," Lex said easily. He didn't seem to be lying.

"Nothing that will mind control people either," Clark threw out a random guess, and was rewarded by Lex making a frustrated noise and tearing the little contraption apart and starting to make something else with it.

"You are truly no fun, Clark Kent," Luthor muttered. "But I enjoy a challenge when I am issued one."

"That wasn't a challenge!" Clark exclaimed, then realized that to Lex, it probably had been. How could he mess with people without killing them? There were, unfortunately, lots of ways. "Just don't hurt or upset people, is that so hard?"

"Don't upset people?" Lex scoffed. "Clark, one's very existence and position on any moral stance will offend someone, somewhere. It is impossible to go through life without upsetting people."

Clark didn't know how to fight that one. He lightly bit his lip. "Well... just don't go out of your way to do it just for fun."

"Of course not," Lex said, which made Clark wonder what loophole he'd left in his words _this _time.

There had been something bothering Clark for awhile now, so he took the opportunity to let it out. "You said Superman had everything and you hated it... well, I'm pretty sure he's not richer than you, he doesn't own half the city."

"73%," Lex corrected, because of course that was something he knew off the top of his head. "What does wealth even mean to a man who can crush carbon into diamonds with his bare hands?"

Okay, Lex had a point. "By similar logic, what would he need with power, either? You keep worrying he's going to, what, take over? But why would he need to if he can already get anything he wants, food, shelter, wealth, without resorting to that sort of thing?"

Lex paused, thinking. "Agreement and obedience. That's something he can't necessarily get without violence. What happens if he ever tires of criminals committing crimes in _his _territory, of the little power games he plays with us where he makes it clear he could end us all but doesn't? If an 'unjust' law he hates gets passed? He already plays vigilante. What if he escalated? What happens when he finally loses his temper or decides the adoration of the crowds isn't enough anymore?"

"So your brilliant plan is to attempt to, what, deliberately provoke him to try to get him to lose his temper?" Clark said with disbelief.

"It would show the world what a fraud he really is," Lex declared. "Deep down, he's not different from the rest of us. He's not perfect." Not different from Lex, he meant, clearly, in a classic case of projecting one's self on to another. "Besides, I can take it better than the rest of them. I'm one of the only ones who even stands a chance of taking him down before he turns into a real menace."

"So, if he's no different from the rest of us, does that mean he's no different than me?" Clark said playfully. Normally, he didn't like to imply he had anything in common with Superman, but Lex had already deluded himself pretty well there was no way they could be the same... "Do you really think I want to take over the world, Lex? Me, the guy who keeps turning down all monetary rewards and deliberately sought a job that appealed to me morally when you know I could have gotten something better?"

Lex was often off in his own world, especially when Superman came up, but at this last he finally looked at Clark. Really looked at him, assessing. "No. But that doesn't mean you couldn't snap if you got angry." And then he wasn't really looking at him any more, but far off, and abruptly Clark realized he had to be thinking of Lionel again.

"Lex," he said soothingly. "I'm not Lionel. I'm not going to snap and beat you half to death when you misbehave. If I was, don't you think I would have done that already? I mean, you broke into my apartment!" And nearly killed him, on half a dozen occasions.

Lex huffed. "If you didn't want me to, you shouldn't have had such shoddy security."

"Lex!" Clark exclaimed. "That's not an excuse!"

But the whole conversation was rather revealing. That deep down, Luthor was really a horrible, insecure man who projected his horribleness on to others, but was also just plain terrified of anyone having any power over him. It didn't really reveal anything Clark hadn't already known or expected, but, it clarified things a bit. Like he was apparently, despite all his efforts, even a little bit afraid of _Clark Kent, _though not Clark Kent the possibly out of shape and timid reporter with a cheap apartment, but Clark Kent, the hypothetical empowered version who could actually do something. It was, indeed, anyone, of any stripe, having power that scared him, unless that person was himself.

Clark had zero ability to deal with such insecurity. But at least, he supposed, he could try to keep himself from getting mad at him, no matter how much he drove him crazy sometimes, it clearly wouldn't help and it certainly could hurt.

.

* * *

Having Lex at the apartment more long-term than the usual brief visits had the unfortunate side effect that Clark had to be careful about changing into his costume and going in and out. He had an excuse as a reporter for leaving at odd hours, but he couldn't rush the way he was used to. And there was another problem, possibly quite worse.

Lex could actually be a bit observant, when he wanted to.

And Clark was always coming in from all kinds of scuffles, some of which could actually hurt him. A fight with Livewire left him with a slight muscular twitch for a day and slight singe. She'd left him with electrical fire burns on his hands. They healed fast, but that meant he was still wearing gloves for a day. He caught Luthor eying him oddly.

"It's the middle of summer, Clark, and that's not your usual fashion choice," he remarked.

"Um, well, it's nice to mix it up now and then?" he said, but it apparently wasn't convincing because Lex walked over and yanked them off.

"What have you been doing to yourself?" he said, and Clark couldn't tell if under the faint disdain there was actual concern under there. Lex was just so prickly.

"Got a little too close to Livewire trying to report on her activities," Clark said, which was mostly the truth.

"Clark," Lex said, and goodness, that was actual concern and dismay, wasn't it? Just a little bit. "You are not Superman. That could have killed you. You need to be more careful, you oaf."

Clark wanted to laugh. If only Lex knew. He was only letting himself care because Clark was absolutely no threat to him.

Then he said something Clark found considerably less funny. "You're being weirdly brave again, Clark."

Clark just flushed. "I didn't mean to?" he phrased it as a question.

Lex laughed at him, although Clark didn't get what was so funny. "You just can't help yourself, can you Clark? You're so humble and salt of the earth. It's refreshing."

Clark shrugged, mouth a little dry.

The next incident Lex was curious, and merely remarked: "You really have bad luck, don't you Clark?"

But twice is a coincidence and three times is a pattern, and by the third time he was frowning in thought. For a man of steel, Clark honestly wasn't quite as invulnerable as everyone made him out to be. His enemies often liked to employ Kryptonite, he wasn't immune to electricity and he didn't necessarily like very high temperatures either although they wouldn't kill him (to be best of his knowledge), a building dropped on him could bruise even if it wouldn't scratch, and magic was one of his definite weaknesses.

It also didn't help that he'd had a particularly bad week, with the criminal underworld trying to take Lex Luthor's place as top dog of Metropolis now that they'd falsely concluded he was gone.

"Let me get this straight, Clark. You've been zapped, burned, slashed," that had been someone with a Kryptonite knife, "bludgeoned... and is that a bullet hole?" That last made Clark blink and look at his sleeve. Right, that was when someone had actually shot at Clark Kent instead of Superman.

"I got lucky and it only got the sleeve," he told him. It was a lie, but close enough, right?

"How many disasters can one man get into? And people call you a coward?" Lex said slowly and full of disbelief. "You're the exact same boy who ran into a tornado."

Clark shrugged. He couldn't articulate a good lie to get out of this and would only make it worse if he tried. "I guess."

He had a suspicion that Lex had finished his device a little while ago, but was delaying out of... curiosity? Concern? To see if this pattern of Clark's was really a pattern or just a very unlucky week. Unfortunately for Clark, it really was a pattern, although this week had been quite a bad one, he couldn't say the next week was devoid of incidents. With Livewire still loose, he got himself zapped again. He thought he'd hid it better this time, but Lex had raised a brow at him and _knew, somehow. _

"Your hair," Lex said bluntly. Clark raised up a hand and realized it was all on-end, as if lifted by static electricity. Whoops. "You look ridiculous. Now, how many times can one man get electrocuted by the same superhuman and still live to tell the tale?"

"I'm just lucky," he explained. It wasn't untrue, he felt.

"Come here and let me look at you," said Lex, and Clark wanted to obey, but he remembered his suit is still underneath and he panics.

"I'm okay, I just need a shower." He bolted for the bathroom.

He's not surprised when Lex is gone, seemingly for good, when he finally comes out. What does surprise him is when the criminal underworld quiets a bit again and Livewire appears, bound up with rubber, right nearby a police station with a note in familiar handwriting reading:

'_For a favor_'.

* * *

It would have been nice if this vigilantism had turned out to be a permanent thing, instead of Luthor's more usual mischief, but it wasn't. Lex managed to bargain for a reduced sentence with his 'helpful behavior', so it wasn't even that altruistic, and got himself on parole in his own luxurious tower somehow despite the fact he'd escaped. Clark suspected bribery greased the wheels somewhere, but the fact the local economy took a stumble and stocks crashed when Lex went to prison probably didn't help. The man in a way threatened to crash half of Metropolis down with him, entirely legally into the economic gutters, which was a powerful incentive for anyone to want to release him again. And then, instead of laying low, he was messing with Superman again. Just making it very hard to pin back to him, but one had to wonder almost if he wanted to get caught, playing it so close. It was probably a taunt: _you tried to send me away and look what little good it did, how fast I bounced back, you can't pin me no matter how you try._

Clark found the little device he'd originally built in the apartment, while it didn't hurt anyone, did very obnoxiously send dogs - and Kryptonians capable of hearing high frequencies - a bit nutty trying to tune out the noise. He kept destroying the things and avoiding the various death traps that often used the devices as a lure, but Luthor just kept building more of the things, which made Clark worry he was being giving red herrings while Luthor planned something more extreme.

However, soon Clark had himself completely distracted with something else.

He'd found other Kryptonian survivors in a place called the 'Phantom Zone'. He was so excited, but in the end decided he could only safely release one of them, a woman named Mala who had worked for man named Jax-ur. Nod, General Dru-Zod, Ursa and Jax-ur were criminals with a life sentence. Jax-ur was particularly saddening to learn about, because it was him with his ballistic missiles destroying a Kryptonian colony on the moon Wegthor who caused the space program to get outlawed on Krypton, if not for him, his species might have far more survivors today. The loss of the moon may even have caused destabilizing effects that helped lead to the destruction, although it was not the primary factor. It was pretty unfortunate either way. General Zod, on the other hand, and his subordinates, Clark just saw as a reminder that Kryptonians weren't any better than humans were, as they'd had their bad apples who greedily tried to take over the planet before it blew.

Naturally, Lex was shamelessly on TV, denouncing the new Kryptonian and exclaiming that "They probably plan to replace all of humanity with their alien spawn!" Yeah, no.

Unfortunately, Mala, who he had hoped was only following orders, turned out to be erratic and violent. Clark had to admit feeling partially responsible, though, when she abruptly escalated. He suspected she had over-heard him talking to the good scientist who had been helping him study the phantom zone about the possibility of sending her back if her behavior couldn't be corrected. That didn't excuse going after Lois just because Clark had spurned Mala's romantic advances and showed no interest in the 'replace humanity with their spawn' plan, however.

"So you desire the touch of these inferior creatures, do you?" she'd hissed at him, before she escaped him by sending him crashing into a building that threatened dozens of people as it threatened to topple, using his delay to rescue them to fly off and release the other Kryptonian prisoners.

She'd been talking about Lois, but he had to admit that for half a second, embarrassingly his mind had gone back to Lex wanting to check up over his wounds. It was a different sort of touch, his mind protested, than what she'd been implying, and he had wished he could have let him, because it was nice to have someone care and to see a flicker of humanity in the irritable man. But it was just too risky, especially with the suit on. Besides, Clark would heal. He always would. So his wish for a caring touch was completely ridiculous, superfluous to any real need except the psychological.

He was the man of steel, but his psyche wasn't.

And to his shock, maybe he was about to find out a _why. _He'd always assumed it was his upbringing, but something the rogue Kryptonians stated to him made him frown. "Really Mala," said Zod with a drawl. "You should have expected softness from one of the Scientist Caste. He's no warrior."

"Of course, Zod," Mala said, bowing her head. "But he still could have made himself useful, or displayed some vision. On a planet such as this, one wouldn't need to be much of a warrior to take over. He's especially pathetic, don't you think?"

"I resent that remark, Zod," stated Jax-ur. "You know I am part Scientist caste." Mala looked toward him, as if a little dismayed he may have been insulted. She looked quite fond of him.

"But you are also part Security, and have more than proven yourself to be a man of vision," dismissed Zod. "I meant no insult. Now, let's stop bickering and finish him."

"Nod will enjoy this!" Nod was a bit of a clod.

"As much as I detest most men and would enjoy seeing the death of another," stated Ursa, the second of the women, and, worryingly, apparently the fiercer and more homicidal. "Is it really wise to limit the genetic diversity of our species? Perhaps we should merely cripple him beyond all hope of recovery."

"Some aren't worth adding to the gene pool and would pollute it more than help, no matter how small it is," Mala argued back with disgust. Clark remembered her buttering up to him earlier... so, clearly said out of anger that he'd spurned her, then, although liking humans over her had been the last straw, so maybe it really was just an overall disgust with his softness.

"It displeases me, but she may have a point," said Jax-ur also with some disgust, though not as intense. He had a clinical air to him and was clearly wrangling to be General Zod's second, placing himself close to him, but with the way Mala and Ursa both eyed him it seemed he had some competition. "At six, our number is basically at the absolute minimum for the recovery of a species. I was not a geneticist and may not be able to set up birthing facilities to compensate; we'll have to do conservation the old fashioned way, carefully, in case the old ways cannot be immediately recovered. It might overly paranoid, if the sun has strengthened us, but it's best not to give extra invitations to weakness. Besides, the man was clearly brain-washed by the natives. Any resulting offspring might be more... palatable."

"If you can manage it, my dear Ursa," General Zod said with his head held proud, despite the fact he was the one who had developed his powers the least so far. "All of you, kill him if he proves too much to manage. We can just salvage some of his genes from his corpse if we absolutely have to."

If not for the fact they hadn't fully come into their powers yet, Clark would surely have been finished. As it was, they horribly outnumbered him, and they beat the stuffing out of him, Ursa being especially vicious and trying to literately take off one of his limbs but - thankfully - not quite managing.

To make things even worse, when he tried to hide as Clark Kent? They threatened to drag him out right in front of the Daily Planet. They saw right through his disguise and sensed him there anyway. It was only the fact they didn't comprehend the significance of his dual identity, merely thinking that he was trying to put on commoner clothes on that day specifically to try to fool them, that they didn't out him as having a secret identity to the world. He was not quite sure how they knew - but the fact they had x-ray vision and had a Kryptonian scientist who could probably tell the difference quite quickly between Kryptonian physiology and human was likely it.

There was, ironically, only one place he could quickly hide nearby, and it existed because of his own previously-worst enemy.

Lex Luthor was nothing if not horribly paranoid, and he had to oddly feel thankful for this as he limped into one of his lead lined buildings. After a moment of hesitation, he changed to Clark Kent's identity again. It wouldn't do him much good if they found him, but frankly, he wasn't up to fighting, so if they did he'd be finished anyway. And it meant he wouldn't have to fight Lex, which he really wasn't up to right now either.

"Clark!" Lex said in shock, popping out of an elevator. He must have spotted Clark on a security camera moving to hide and curl up into a bleeding ball behind a desk in the abandoned first floor lobby, then. "They _brutalized_ you."

"Ursa really doesn't like men," he offered lamely. It was the only excuse he could think of for why they should single out Clark Kent. It was true enough, but with one flaw: Ursa usually killed the human men she toyed with. Worried this wasn't enough, he shot himself in the foot by adding: "They wanted Superman." Great, why did you say that, Clark? Lex _hates_ Superman. He could salvage this, though. "It'll probably make you happy to know they beat the shit out of him." Clark didn't normally swear, but he wasn't feeling very good and thought he could make an exception.

Lex was trying to heft him up - very unlike him, really, and Clark had mercy on him and decided to stand up, since he could, and even if he couldn't, he could float and fake it - and dragged him to a room that was a lot more secure, if the massive doors of steel and lead and who knew what else that shut behind them were any indication, or the labyrinth of lasers and weapons systems down the hall to it.

"This really isn't necessary, I just needed a safe spot to crash for a little while that they can't see me in, and I know you line your buildings with lead," that garnered him a sharp look, although he didn't know why - maybe Lex didn't expect him to know that even though all it would take was talking to Superman?

"Clark Kent," Lex said with a tone that he thought Clark was an idiot, which admittedly a tone he used almost all the time. "You were bleeding on my floor."

"I'm sorry," Clark apologized, unsure if that was what Lex wanted (even though no normal person would see bleeding on the floor as rude it _was_ true it made a mess and Clark really was sorry about that) and saw Lex roll his eyes.

"Stop being an oaf and get yourself bandaged." Mercy, the bodyguard, handed a roll to him.

"I don't take you for a medical expert, Clark: are you sure you aren't going to bleed out?" Lex stated, eying him.

"Yeah, I'm pretty tough. I just need rest, I promise," Clark huffed. "And I'm not just being macho, either. I've always healed fast, remember?"

"I do," said Lex, his tone normal for once. This, of course, did not last. "This makes it clear someone needs to do something about those damned Kryptonian menaces. It looks like they tried to take your limbs straight off." They_ did_ try, but Clark couldn't explain that since there was no way mere bumbling Clark Kent should have survived that.

"Lex," Clark said with a panic, and he grabbed at his hands before Lex could push a button on a remote to do who-knows-what. "You need to be really careful. Whatever you have planned... take longer than you usually would, double it up with more firepower than you think you need, overkill probably won't even be kill here. There's a lot of them, 2 women, 3 men, and unlike Superman, they really will **kill you** if they feel like it. Do you understand that, Lex?" Lex tried to tug his hand out of his grip, but Clark wouldn't let go even as he felt himself weakening. "Do you?!"

"Yes, Clark, yes! Fine. I won't even let them know I'm the one attacking them, will that make you happy?" Lex was clearly miffed, but then he was almost always miffed, so Clark relaxed and shut his eyes, letting himself lay back. Was he on a carpet or a very fuzzy sofa? He was too disoriented to pay attention to where he had sat down. Which was now laid down. "Clark?" Clark didn't respond. A nap sounded nice. "Clark, stay awake, please. I don't know if you're concussed yet."

Weakly, he forced his eyes open. "M'awake, Lex, honest."

"How many fingers do I have?"

"Two up," he responded. "I'm not concussed, I think. I'm just tired." Which was funny because he was rarely tired. "Although I am dizzy."

"That's the blood loss," Lex concluded. "You should keep your head low so your heart doesn't have to make as much effort to pump to it." Lex sprayed something on his bandages. "This is a special gauze, it'll keep you from bleeding through and losing any more blood. I've been working on it to work even without the bandages as an emergency wound foam, but it isn't quite ready yet."

That was brilliant, something that could save so many lives. Why couldn't Lex be like this all the time? "You could be so much," Clark muttered. "You should cure cancer sometime." Clark felt useless in comparison, although maybe that was the blood loss making him feel awful. All he did was stop disasters that sometimes he suspected wouldn't even have occurred if he hadn't been around. Like letting loose the Kryptonians, that was all his fault. Everyone was always telling him to be more suspicious and reserved and he kept failing to take their advice.

Lex grinned. "Maybe I will. It's on the to-do list."

God, maybe the best thing he could do right now was die right here, inspire Lex Luthor to actually do something right for once, and let him kill the Kryptonian menace to sate his bloodlust and need to be the best and then, hopefully, maybe, go and do the 'solve cancer' thing now that he had no super-people distracting him. Wasn't that a depressing thought?

Although knowing Lex he'd probably just find someone new to pick a fight with, perhaps from another solar system again.

"Sir, we have visitors," Mercy stated. She was very professional, but there was an edge of worry in her voice that she couldn't hide. A TV in the room revealed a trio of Kryptonians, Ursa, Mala, and Nod. Where the others were, Clark didn't know and felt uneasy just thinking about.

Lex looked grim, and stood up away from Clark. "Put me, and just me, on screen. I don't want to share physical space with those maniacs if I can help it, so I'm not going to go greet them."

That was... actually a very, very smart idea, and very different from the confident air Lex had put on when Superman had appeared in front of him ages ago, arms folded, exuding disappointment in Luthor's actions. Was Clark just not scary or something? Then again, he did save cats out of trees.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Lex practically purred, all traces of irritation gone.

"Your buildings are lined with lead. We have lost trace of the one known here as Superman, the true name we know to be Kal-El." Hardly. His name was, and always would be, Clark Kent. "Naturally, we suspect his location here, and you will surrender him to us."

"You're kidding, right? Ask anyone and you'll know Lex Luthor and Superman are mortal enemies! I've never been fond of that soft-hearted gullible fool. When I offered to help him with conquest, he turned me down." Lex said in a rage, then took on a calculating air. "But you lot look more reasonable. I can help you with securing Earth. You'll need a middle-man to help you with Earth's cultural differences." Clark felt a panic. Was Lex really doing this? Damn it Lex! What happened to getting rid of them and what menaces they were five seconds ago?

"Perhaps," said Mala, considering.

"I think he's a disgusting, cowardly male slime," said Ursa. "Who will not even show his true body to us. How do we know he tells the truth, even?"

"No, I over-heard their news reporters, this Luth-or and Kal-El truly do hate each other," Mala said with a smug air that she knew something the other woman didn't. "He would not hide Superman here."

"Very well," said Ursa, before pausing. "But Superman tried to hide himself as one of them, did he not? Perhaps he does not know. Tell us, little man, and we will reward you greatly. Is there anyone else here, who would not normally be?"

Clark couldn't breathe. Oh, God. Lex was going to kill him. He'd never seen the man so rigid and still.

"Superman, hide himself as a human?" Lex scoffed, and Clark resisted the urge to roll his eyes. There he was, going back to his old delusion even in the face of overwhelming evidence. It had saved his hide so many times. "He would never do that. He wants us all to look up to him as this big savior and guardian, looking down at us with smug moral superiority about how he could end us all, but won't because we're too insignificant for him to bother."

"Please. Kal-El is no Warrior caste," Ursa stated. "He is Scientist, son of Scientist Jor-El, of the House of El which, like many Kryptonian lineages, has been carefully bred for many generations, even the specific egg that came from his mother would have been carefully selected for culturally desirable temperament. He does not end you because he is literately psychologically unable, a weakling cur of a male like too many males, bound by his biology."

"Scientist caste?" Luthor said with amazement. "Superman would punch a rocket before ever building one. What is this slopping heap of nonsense?"

"He has been badly indoctrinated by humans and mis-educated, but there is no mistaking his temperament. Most Kryptonians outside of the Warrior caste had the urge to kill completely taken out of them," Ursa said with a bored tone. "While useful for the peacekeeping of society, it was ultimately a vast mistake, one which we will not repeat."

Mala grinned. "He's the equivalent of one of your pathetic, what did you call them again? Golden retriever dogs?"

Well, wasn't that just humiliating? While Clark could tell they were definitely coloring the truth from their warped, twisted perspective, it sure sounded like it really was the truth he was some kind of... genetic experiment, and that this was pretty much typical for Kryptonians. Though who the hell decided these ladies were a good idea, he had no clue.

"I'm sorry to tell you, but there's no one here." Lex said curtly, clearly wanting to tell them to get the hell out of his house. "I can send you a list of other properties lined with lead he might be hiding in however."

"That won't be necessary, we can see such for ourselves." Ursa dipped her head. "Good day."

"Tch. I would have enjoyed ripping his head off for what he said about me before you were released," Mala stated.

"We're wasting time while the inferior-caste gets away," Ursa chided.

"They're not that inferior, he's just defective..." the two started to argue as they left, and Clark and Lex both relaxed when they couldn't hear them talk any more.

Lex hadn't turned him in. That meant Lex had lied for him. That he didn't actually plan to join up with the Kryptonians, he'd just been buttering up to them in order to get them to think he was on their side while he plotted to kill them. Clark felt really relieved.

Until Lex turned his stare toward him, assessing and confused in a way he hadn't seen in his face in a long time, when Ma had given him food for the first time. _Is he considering what I think he is? _There had been so many clues and indications, even a computer outright stating 'Clark Kent is Superman' only for Lex to ignore it, that Clark had begun to think nothing would ever have the truth sink in his head. But this was a hell of a revelation, and the scientist in him had to be seriously rolling over the notion that alien psychologies might be, well, genuinely _alien_.

It hurt Clark to think about that, because he wanted to be human, on the inside, but maybe... he wasn't. And it was a hell of a coincidence for Clark to show up bleeding just as Superman had apparently disappeared while injured. Lex was not stupid. He had to know what it all pointed to. But he was also very stubborn, to the point of foolishness.

Lex appeared to make up his mind about something, even if he didn't seem to be done staring at him assessingly, because he said, "Alright, Clark. Would you care to go over plans to stop these bastards?"

That was... very unlike him, to share. He was still unsure what exactly Lex was up to. Clark wasn't stupid, he could absorb whole textbooks in minutes, but he wasn't always, well, people-smart or street-smart or creative. But he did want to stop these people very badly, and he knew he probably couldn't do it alone. "They have all the same weaknesses as Superman, but they also originally came from a place called the Phantom Zone. The device was destroyed, but if we could get the focusing crystal back we could probably rebuild it. I can give you the location and you could send someone to discreetly retrieve it." He'd just have to hope Lex didn't scheme to get Superman trapped in there at the same time, and that he could wrest the device back away from him again before he could use it twice, maybe... "Then we could safely trap them."

"Or we could just kill them," Lex stated darkly.

"Lex!" he said with distress.

"They almost killed you and that still bothers you?" Lex said, but it's less with disbelief this time and more thoughtful. He was still staring at him, almost unblinking. It was really unnerving.

"Intellectually I grasp it might end up being our only option," Clark admitted. "But it should still be our last resort. Life is precious, Lex."

"Me and my employees have been working on a device to mimic the red sun of Superman's birth planet," Lex stated, walking over to his desk and pulling up some schematics. "Here. I'd like you to look over them. Tell me if you see anything interesting or any flaws or possible improvements. I know you got good grades in school, Clark, I'd like to know if you are still capable of using that brain of yours for anything other than reporting."

Now that was really out of character. Lex never just shared schematics with people. When they were young Lex would always hoard his ideas and only reluctantly share, most easily drawn to do so in an air of competition or correction of someone else's idiocy. And why would he choose him, of all people? Surely he knew Clark would be morally obligated to report the existence of such a device to Superman. Still, Clark accepted it, careful not to get blood on it. If there were holes in the design, loathe as he was to make things more difficult for himself, it was probably in his best interest to make sure it really would work on the rival Kryptonians, since that was the more immediate threat. If they didn't do something, humanity was doomed, whereas if Lex turned artificial red sun on Superman later, at worst Superman and whoever he tried to rescue next would be doomed. It wasn't a hard choice to make. Clark always suspected he might die to one of his villains one day, pretty much every superhero pondered the same notion as a possibility.

"You need to make the glass strong enough to not immediately shatter, and to make it heat proof. I know Kryptonite doesn't immediately rob one of their powers, so it's possible a red sun is the same. Thus you need to be wary of heat vision melting your little red sun flashlight here."

"Interesting," said Lex, but Clark felt for some reason he was talking more about Clark and not his idea. "I'd like to repeat an earlier offer of mine, but sincerely this time. Come work for me, Clark."

This could go well or very bad. "You know I'm happy working at the Daily Planet; I'm not motivated by money, Lex. I feel useful there, uncovering the truth." Though he did sometimes feel bad about the conflict of interest when he reported on himself.

"But you're not stupid, Clark. You could be uncovering the truths of the universe. You're _wasted_ in such a position," said Lex with odd fervency, and Clark felt a little embarrassed.

"'Menial' work isn't a waste, someone has to do it," Clark argued. "And I'm not that smart. Besides, it makes people uncomfortable when I'm good at too many things." He couldn't help but think of Batman. Of how he'd freak if he turned out to be faster than Flash. Clark had always felt uneasy racing the man for exactly that reason. He was curious, but at the same time, he didn't genuinely want to be better. That was why he was secretly glad every time they tried some sort of disaster seemed to show up. And he knew it would definitely scare the man if Clark showed signs of being a genius. Though, frankly, Clark would only ever be book-smart. He didn't have it in him to be conniving and under-handed.

"That's ridiculous, Clark, like I told you before, you can't avoid making someone somewhere uncomfortable. People will walk all over you and someone will still be offended at the end. You can't just hide who you are."

"Can't I?" argued Clark back. "I may be a reporter but I'm good at keeping secrets when I have to. I kept yours, didn't I?" That got Lex, for a moment. The reminder that Clark knew, that he'd seen Lex in vulnerable moments few others had, like the moment of his pennilessness, or, and what they were both probably thinking of, the exact details of what Lionel did to Lex. Or the moment Lex had been on the run and Clark had, maybe foolishly, not turned him in.

"You did." Lex said, eying him. It reminded him of the time he'd invited Lex to his house, and Lex had just stared at him like something foreign and indescribable on and off for what felt like days, but also something dangerous. There was no sign of Lex regarding him as dangerous this time, though; he seemed to be relaxing, after the tense encounter. Good, but confusing. "What if I invited you over to consult on occasion?"

Clark couldn't think of a good excuse against that. "Well, I am pretty busy..." Lex looked offended at the weak excuse. "But I guess I could occasionally." That probably wouldn't hurt. It might be nice to have an excuse to visit and keep him occupied with something non-destructive once again. This was the first time he'd been over since the imprisonment and jail break.

"Excellent. You'll be a freelancer, but suitably compensated." Clark was already regretting this a bit. He didn't want to owe Lex anything. Lex seemed to guess this and sighed. "That means you won't officially be under my employ." That did make him feel marginally better.

"I want the bare minimum," Clark stated.

"Clark," Lex said with barely repressed bemusement, "You are the only person in the universe I know who would argue for lower wages. It's almost like you want someone to enslave you as an unpaid intern." That description made Clark wrinkle his nose.

The Clark groaned and curled up, the pain getting to him. "I really do need to rest..."

Lex pursed his lips. "I'm getting you a doctor."

That made Clark shoot upright, even though it hurt like crazy. "No! No doctors!" But Lex had the look he got when he was going to be stubborn and not listen to anyone, so Clark added, sure he would regret it later, "I know you've probably devoured whole medical textbooks, why don't you look me over?" Play to his ego. But, gods, this was stupid, wasn't it? He could only hope he'd healed enough already, yet not so much as to look suspicious... although he certainly felt like crap, so he could conclude he hadn't healed completely, that was certain.

"Reading is different from actual practice..." Lex mused, but Clark could tell he liked it. "Alright. But you need to actually listen to me. Can you do that?"

"It's your house and I'm a guest," Clark said. "The least I can do is be polite and obey your rules while I'm here, as long as they're reasonable." Lex made a slight skeptical noise, which Clark found offensive. What was so hard to believe about that? Clark was very polite, thank you.

"Mercy, you can leave and track down that Phantom Zone device he spoke of," Lex stated. Mercy seemed to agree with the silent statement that Clark was no threat in his state, because she left without protest. Then he moved forward and started taking Clark's clothes off, which made Clark squeak.

"I-is this really necessary?"

"Don't be so modest, Clark. Your clothes are soaked in blood, you can't keep wearing this. And I need a good look at you." Lex shone a flashlight into Clark's eyes, which made him blink, then roved his hands over him, probing. It made Clark flush with shame, then, as fingers dug in, wince. "You have a broken rib," Lex concluded. Clark winced again, and Lex amended, "Make that several. You are very lucky it seems to be a fairly clean break and didn't pierce any vital organs, although I'm surprised you aren't showing more discomfort when you move your chest to breathe."

"Well, I've felt worse." Clark was pretty stoic. He was just glad Lex hadn't commented on how unusually muscular he was for someone with a desk job.

"That's not necessarily a good thing," Lex said dryly. "Considering one of the points of pain is to make you move as little as possible. You don't want to jar your chest. I'll need to gently wrap it to try to keep it from shifting, but not so much as to constrict your breathing in any way." It was interesting that he had so many medical supplies tucked away; most people were more likely to have band-aids and cough syrup rather than bandages and wound-sealing gauze in their cabinets. With Lex's paranoia it wouldn't surprise him if he had a full medical wing stocked near here that he was hiding. Though with the craziness of Metropolis, that honestly wasn't a terrible idea. It had certainly turned out useful now. "In case it wasn't perfectly clear, I'm ordering you not to move unless I say so."

Clark wanted to protest.

"You agreed," Lex reminded him, taking obvious delight in the fact. Power tripping bastard.

"I need to make myself useful. I can't stay here for too long," Clark argued. He couldn't explain.

"You can make yourself useful _here_," Lex argued. "Let's go over some schematics, shall we?"

That... did make him feel better about resting. He nodded, and Lex handed him a blanket.

But there was something he needed to know. If Lex had relaxed, he clearly had to have rationalized that Clark and Superman weren't the same. How? "How do you think Superman is doing?" he asked, just to make sure Lex really wasn't suspecting.

The familiar flicker of disdain came back on Lex's face, which was sad but comfortingly status quo. "Surviving like a cockroach, I'm sure."

"The Kryptonians thought I was him," he prodded a little dangerously.

"But you're not that much alike," Lex said, sounding slightly put out. "He's confident where you are bumbling. And he would never let anyone order him around."

Oh. He'd almost forgotten about his own acting. Was Lex really fooled by that? "I mean, he'd have to act different though, wouldn't he?" Clark defended. "You can't have the guy who can bench steel with his abs looking scared or you'll cause normal people to panic wondering what chance they stand if even he's scared, you know?" Then, more insecurely, he asked, "Do you really only like me better because I'm easy to order around?"

"Clark," Lex said with admonishment, "You are one of the stubbornest people I know. I never said you were easy to, only that you could. You're so humble and polite. He is not. You know he showed up at my penthouse without an invitation to threaten me once?"

"You showed up at my house uninvited too," Clark stated dryly. Lex completely ignored him. He was very good at being a hypocrite, Lex. "Like I said, I think he feels he has to act like that."

"Why should he feel like he has to act like anything?" Lex shot back. "No one can tell him what to do."

"But people have expectations. Are you saying you never put on an act because it's what people want to hear?"

Lex glared at him.

Could it really be that simple, though? Everyone in the superhero community knew Batman was the person who put on the cowl, not the person who had it off. Clark was the exact opposite: he was Clark Kent, not Superman. Yes, he did exaggerate his clumsiness as Clark and shyness a bit, but he wasn't the paragon of confidence and strength he projected as Superman either. _That_ was a mask. And it seemed to have pissed Lex off to no end.

Would it really have made everything better if he'd just acted more like his real self? Probably not. They'd still have fought over Lex's misdeeds.

"That act was for your own benefit, Clark. You owe me." Lex said darkly, standing up and moving to leave.

Clark could see he'd gone too far. "I know, I'm sorry, Lex. I don't really want to fight." Lex stopped to listen, at least. "It was rude of me to bring Superman up when I know you don't want to talk about him in your own house. Let's just look at schematics and I'll shut up, okay?"

Lex thought for a moment, then reluctantly nodded. "I can't leave you unsupervised, anyway. You'd probably break another one of your ribs. It seems like every time I see you, you manage to be more damaged than before."

Clark resented that comment. He wasn't that bad!

When Mercy came back with the crystal attuned to the Phantom Zone, Clark didn't ask how they'd managed to track it down when he'd never said where he had been using it. It was a little unnerving, but he knew the man had serious connections and resources. Instead, he asked, "Is the Professor okay?"

"He's been captured by the Kryptonians to work for them, and to help them take down Superman if need be." Shit! That was bad. Seriously bad. How pale he became didn't escape Lex's attention. "They decided putting the son of Jor-El into the Phantom Zone would be a fitting revenge. The loss of the crystal will seriously displease them, most likely."

"Good," Lex drawled.

"That had to be seriously dangerous," Clark commented, and Mercy merely quirked a brow at him, as if to say 'So?' "Never-mind."

"I don't think I'll have any trouble re-creating the device," Lex declared with typical proud arrogance. "So second order of business." He pointed at Clark's ruined clothes. "I want these disposed of."

"No!" Clark exclaimed. "I'm fond of those!" His Ma had made them for him.

"Clark, they have bullet holes in them and are stained with blood! They're a wreck!" Lex exclaimed. "They don't even fit you! They're over-sized. My house, my rules." Lex took obvious delight in saying that last sentence. "While you are here, you are going to wear something _tailored, _like someone with actual taste."

Clark made a face. Petty tyrant. That was all what this was to him, a power trip. Had he told Lois Lex wasn't interested in petty theft? Obviously, he had been dead wrong. This was clearly stealing. "It's nothing a bit of bleach and some sewing couldn't mend. Give me a needle."

"No," said Lex firmly. Mercy stuffed the clothes in a bag. "You wear flannel. It's a crime against fashion. Burn them, Mercy."

Monster, Clark thought without too much venom and more exasperation.

"They were so threadbare I don't know how you could stand them," Lex complained. "Was that the same outfit you wore in high school, Clark? That's just pathetic. Don't they pay you enough at the Daily Planet to get new clothes?" Now that made Clark flush.

"Yes, but, it_ has_ been a bit tight with the downward economic spiral of newspapers these days," Clark admitted.

"And you still don't want me to pay you extra compensation?" Lex whistled. "You really are something, Clark." It wasn't phrased as a compliment, and he bristled. When Mercy arrived rather quicker than he was expecting with an unopened new suit that was a dark blue that complimented his eyes, Clark blinked.

"Do I want to know how you already had my measurements and a suit waiting for me?"

Lex shifted a little. "I remembered them."

"From all the way from the end of High School?" That had been when Clark hit his last growth spurt. He and Lex had gone shopping exactly once at a mall. It had actually been fairly pleasant. "I guess they were pretty good burgers," he mused.

From the quirked, reluctant smile, he could tell Lex knew exactly what memory he was thinking of. Well, he guessed. He supposed this wasn't so terribly bad. They probably did need replacing at some point.

"You can wear these after you've cleaned up a bit and rested. If you put them on now, you'd only get them dirty and hurt yourself," Lex stated.

* * *

Mercy stared at what was unmistakably a small sewn up hole, easy to miss, right on the center of the shirt. At some point someone had shot this man right in the heart, and he'd patched the shirt right up like nothing had happened. She didn't hesitate before setting the evidence aflame.

While her boss didn't believe it, Mercy was no fool. She knew Clark Kent had to be Superman. But Lex didn't pay her for her opinions. The only question that mattered now was, was he a threat to the boss?

Watching them banter and clash countless times, she doubted it. It was the only reason Clark Kent was still alive and didn't have a kryptonite bullet in the back of his head.

That, and her boss would probably fire her, if not kill her himself. Because even if Clark Kent didn't believe it, she knew the man had been growing steadily to an intense interest in him, even border-lining on obsessed at times, peering over every line of his articles. And that was before his alien identity came into play. Though whether he would stay this way was a different matter. Lex had gone through a similar phase before with miss Lane, who hadn't appreciated it much. That, just as much as the weapons dealing, had led to their breakup.

So she would keep this secret quietly to herself. But believe her. She'd be watching Clark Kent carefully for signs of danger. If he hurt Lex in any way, she'd kill him herself, no matter what Lex's reaction might be.


	3. Chapter 3

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* * *

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Lex is contemplative. He knows what the evidence looks like, how it stacks against Clark. He deliberately tested the man repeatedly, and Clark seemed confused by the change of behavior but not sly enough to catch on to what he was really doing when he asked him to look at schematics, or to obey him. He was trying to gauge if, no matter how ridiculous it seemed, Clark could really be Superman.

First, he'd tested that 'scientist caste' idea. Clark was... not stupid, even if he was a bit of an oaf. He wasn't sly, but he wasn't stupid: he absorbed all the information Lex threw at him, provided he had access to definitions for some of the words he didn't know. So he supposed, hypothetically, if he was Superman that he could be from such a caste.

The obedience part was because he was so, so sure that Superman would never agree to obey him, Lex Luthor, on anything. But Clark just shrugged and wanted to do his best to be polite, provided it was within reason. That part did make Lex want to laugh, because 'within reason' was almost certainly very different from Lex's idea of reasonable.

They were so different, really, and Lex was sure he had figured it out:

"You pretended to be Superman to lure the Kryptonians away from Kal-El, taking advantage of your very similar physical profiles."

Clark is staring in shock at his sheer brilliance in figuring it out, and Lex can't help but put on a smug grin. He can't help but note also Clark looks much nicer now that he's wearing something that actually fits him. Bigger and more muscular, too, since too-large clothes make you look smaller, not bigger. How much does that man slouch, anyway? Laying down flat now to heal his injuries, he can't hide his size in that way.

"What I can't figure out is your reluctance to kill these people after they hurt you so," Lex says. "I would not be so merciful, especially since, unless Kryptonians can be stripped of their powers, they can't exactly ever be rendered_ perfectly_ harmless."

"Do you really want me to convert to your way of thinking on this, Lex?" Clark asks sincerely. "I mean, think through the implications for a moment. You suspect me of working with Superman and having his ear, and you want me to take on the philosophy that you should kill someone who injures or tries to kill you and will continue to pose a threat? I mean, really?"

Well... when he put it like that, it didn't sound too advantageous to Lex to convince him. But that didn't mean Lex wasn't right. "I'm not about to try to genocide the human race, either, Clark. We're not exactly the same."

"That's true, but this isn't exactly the first time you've been all 'kill kill kill'. I have enough familiarity with your traps to know you don't try to just capture Superman, you try to murder him, even though he's never tried to do the same to you! He's no threat to you!" That burned. Of course he was a threat to him!

"_Superman_ spared me because he looks down on me as not a real threat, because he's a sanctimonious prick who wants moral superiority and to get everyone to exclaim how great and merciful he is," he spits out before he even really thinks about it. Because if the Kryptonians hadn't been lying (but why would they lie? No, why wouldn't they lie? They were aliens, maybe they were really working together and this was some horrible scheme to get his guard down...) then maybe Superman was, genuinely, fully, just psychologically incapable of killing him, and that was the only reason and everything Lex had just said was just projection. Because that was the only reason Lex would ever spare a threat to itself, if it weren't really a threat and could never be, and it was safest to reason that everyone else was the same way.

Clark looks hurt, which is stupid, because Clark isn't Superman. He can't be, right?

"Just tell me your answer, Clark."

"Fine. I don't believe two wrongs make a right. I know you aren't religious, but I am, and I've always been taught that all life is precious and everyone deserves a chance for redemption before they die."

"Clark, you don't need to be religious to believe life is precious. Humanists have been believing that for a long time." Left unsaid was that Lex was very much not a humanist either. "You're aware of aliens on other planets and you still believe a sky fairy sent down a personal savior to just this one planet?" Clark flushes in embarrassment. "That makes no sense, Clark, that makes no sense at all."

"Maybe it doesn't, but it's still what I believe. It's faith, Lex, it doesn't have to make sense," Clark says awkwardly, trying to shrug before remembering he wasn't supposed to move, the fool.

"Well, it should," snarked Lex. "As I see it, it comes down to raw calculation. One life, or the millions of lives that might be cost by one of these freaks? It's not a hard choice to make. Any one of them is an unacceptable threat to humanity."

"You're an Utilitarian, I get it," Clark said, showing off his schooling. "But I'm not, Lex. You know there's a saying about Utilitarians, right? That the most utilitarian thing you can do is convince people not to be utilitarian because that belief makes people miserable. You don't look terribly happy to me, Lex."

Lex scowls, even though he knows scowling only proves Clark's point he can't quite help it. He's just so irritating. "Whether some belief makes you happy is completely irrelevant to its usefulness or truthfulness."

"Yeah, but when the point of the philosophy is maximizing happiness it's kind of self defeating." Clark had a point there. "Also, you are the last person I expected to talk about objective morality."

"Which is why I also said usefulness," Lex retorted. "And I don't care that much about maximizing happiness, per say, but keeping our species alive? Sacrificing one for the many? That's not something that should be a controversial calculation."

"Yeah, but, you punch people when they're already down," Clark muttered. "And you asked about my philosophy, not yours. Maybe I don't like to view people as calculations. Maybe I don't see it as simple as trading one life for another, maybe I just don't share the same value system as you that sees that as acceptable unless the trade is voluntary. Real life usually isn't a trolley problem, Lex. You don't know for certain pushing the fat guy is actually going to slow down the cart, you only guess it, and if you guessed wrong then you just killed even more people than were going to die anyway. It might save more lives, but it's not okay to me to cut up someone healthy and send off all their organs to those in need. Sometimes, the option that saves the most lives isn't necessarily the most moral, if you aren't a utilitarian. And _I'm not_. So you can't judge me by that standard and then call me stupid for failing to perform the calculation because you assumed I should or do think that way."

"This is your fear of the sky fairy torturing people in Hell if they don't repent, isn't it? Better the young die innocent and save one man's soul than a lot of people die happy in old age guilty," said Lex a little snidely. "God Clark, you know Pascal's wager is a logical fallacy, don't you?"

"I know, but... it still bothers me." Both the killing and the thought of damnation. Southern fears didn't die down easy. It was why, when for a few seconds that morning he found himself thinking Lex actually looked rather handsome when he wasn't being a total bastard, a part of him panicked. "I don't want to kill people, Lex. I just don't, not as long as there's any other option. Doesn't it bother you?" he asks, and the confusion is clear on his face, like he can't comprehend killing being easy for anyone.

It truly just didn't compute for Clark Kent.

And that annoys Lex Luthor, because it accords with what those annoying aliens said. If Clark Kent was Superman, if he really was the offspring of some alien 'scientist caste' bred for a specific temperament, then he had a deep psychological inhibition against killing or causing harm that mere words would have a deep trouble swaying away. And he did not want Clark to be Superman. Of course, wanting had nothing to do with the truth, but... It just didn't mesh to him. Superman was such a pretentious holier than thou bastard.

How could he possibly, in any universe,_ be Clark Kent_?

"Have you considered in this case that maybe locking them up would be more cruel?" Lex tries changing tactics finally, and is reward with dismay on Clark's face. "This Phantom Zone with no contact with the outside world isn't too different from solitary confinement, which many regarded to be torture." Lex found it refreshing not to be bothered by morons, but that was just him. "Are you really going to put a proud people into confinement in a realm where they may not even be able to stretch their legs or have a good meal, just float in perpetuity?"

Clark looks thoughtful, and reluctantly shakes his head. "I guess I shouldn't. Still, it could make for a temporary measure to subdue them at least? We shouldn't cut down on our options just because you want to be more ruthless." That affronted Lex. It wasn't like he wanted to be more ruthless, he simply viewed it as the intelligent thing to do. "Superman could maybe find some planet with a red sun somewhere for them to live on harmlessly."

"And leave them to rebuild an advanced civilization to come back after us, generations later, for revenge?" Lex retorts back. "Think it through, Clark."

Clark fidgets and looks really uncomfortable about all this. "I don't think such a small number of people could really build an advanced civilization... I mean, it takes a lot of specialization to run a modern industrial society. That's not something just a few people could manage. The knowledge would get lost pretty quickly even if you tried hard to preserve it."

"But even stone age societies can eventually become industrial, Kent, and oral stories can be passed down a long time."

"But language won't stay the same. They won't even remember the names of who they are mad at, thousands of years later, if even the same culture still survived which is pretty unlikely: the proto-indo-europeans aren't exactly around anymore, Lex, they splintered into dozens of cultures," Clark argued. "This is exactly what I was saying. This is you, saying to push the fat guy on the trolley path, while I'm saying the real world is messy and we don't know that will really save lives the way you think it will, in which case you just cost _more lives_." Clark runs his hands through his hair, frustrated. It looks fairly messy, and Lex idly wonders how much hair gel he'd have to pour in it to look more like Superman, slick and gravity defying. "The calculation just isn't as simple as you make it out to be. And I just can't bring myself to make that simplifying assumption that would make it all so nice and neat and seemingly obvious, because I know that I don't know everything, but I do know we live in a world where it is way too easy for people to rationalize really nasty things like genocide and then sleep soundly at night telling themselves they did the right thing." Which was what this is, if they were really the last hope of their species. Clark didn't even know if he could hybridize with humans. Probably, considering the genetic differences, he couldn't. Even then, the result wouldn't exactly be the same species any more.

"That's what I like about you, Clark," says Lex, satisfied, finally, that they really can't be the same being. "You're humble, you say you don't know, like a good agnostic. Superman would simply come in and exclaim 'You cannot do that Luthor, you will endanger innocent lives!' and that would be the end of it. He wouldn't give an explanation, just assume his view of the situation is right."

It horribly clicks to Clark, that on this one instance, Lex is right, he really_ does_ act like that when he's Superman. He's never sat down and debated philosophy with Luthor: that would be quite strange and a little awkward, actually, when weaponry is being fired at you. But nonetheless, he's treated Lex like a misbehaving child. And of course Lex would resent the fuck out of that, although that didn't quite justify trying to murder him of course, he can see a little bit more of where Lex is coming from, why he hates Superman so much.

Fuck, he really did make a mistake. "Superman thinks the same way I do, he just... didn't think you would ever be interested in hearing his opinion, I think," he offers lamely. Although, honestly, he had thought the 'endanger innocent lives' was explanation enough! It was hard to remember sometimes Lex had such a warped and cynical view of the world. He'd cut out your organs, sell them off to the highest bidders, and exclaim he was doing the world a favor because more lives were saved at the end and that he deserved the money for his services. That was the sort of fucked up, twisted person Lex was.

And Clark was frankly really tired of trying to reach him, but he felt like, maybe, he'd made a tiny bit of progress today? At least Lex was thinking about what he said, even if probably only to try and figure out a way to rip into it. He wasn't quite sure why Lex bothered to banter with him. Perhaps Lex was bored while he worked on progressing with his traps, or maybe he just liked trying to win and saw it as a challenge.

"I doubt that very much, Clark." Lex pauses. "So you have no protests against me killing them if there is no other choice?"

"If it's really the only choice, no, no protests." He sighs, already thinking about how they'll probably interpret 'no other choice' very differently. "And it's true. He does agree with me. If we live through this you can ask him yourself." Mercy is in the room, and she gives him the oddest look at that he can't quite decipher. "I don't dislike you Lex, I wish we didn't end up fighting." Especially all the time.

"Why? I enjoyed the conversation." ...of course he did. "You need to man up, Clark. Don't be afraid to defend your opinions just because of other people's feelings."

"I'm not. I say them if I feel I have to, that's why I'm a reporter. I just don't actually like fighting," he clarified. People always got this misconception about him, thought that he wanted to smash everything with his fists, which really just wasn't true and couldn't be further from the truth. "I want everyone to get along. And I don't want or enjoy hurting your feelings, Lex, that's not what friends do." Or good people.

Lex goes still.

For a moment, Clark wonders if he's mis-stepped. It's been a very long time since he's actually referred to them as friends, after all. He isn't sure what else they'd be. Friendly enemies?

"Fair enough, Clark," Lex says with a pleasant smile which Clark returns. Friends. It's crazy, but it seems he really is friends with Lex Luthor, of all people.

Not, he's sure, that this will likely prevent Lex from trying to murder him in the future. It's a very messed up friendship.

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* * *

When Clark gets up, good as new, just as the artificial red sun lamps and flashlights and the phantom zone device are finished, Lex is disturbed.

"Clark, what the hell are you doing? You shouldn't be done healing yet. You had broken ribs, for fuck's sake."

"I'm good," he stretches. "I feel fine. I told you, I'm a fast healer."

"I'll be the judge of that," Lex practically growls. "Sit." Clark sits, and patiently waits while Lex prods him again, looking more and more dismayed. "Well, I'll be damned. Not a single sign of your old injuries. How the hell did you manage that?"

"I eat my vegetables?"

"You're not Pop-eye the Sailor, Clark," Lex snarks. "God. Fine, since I can't find anything wrong with you, you can get up and move. But nothing too strenuous unless you want to break something again, you lunk head!"

"Sorry, Lex, I'm sure Lois is worried sick about me. I gotta go."

Lex does a very good impression of a snarl at him as he tries to flee down the hall, and tries to move in front of him. "I order you to stay!"

"If I'm leaving that means I'm no longer your guest and don't have to listen to you!" Clark retorts, ducking and weaving around him, only to come face to face with Mercy. She holds up a familiar flashlight and he pales. Somehow, she knows. But why hasn't she told Luthor yet?

"If you go out there, they'll kill you, you moron," Lex grumbles. "Mercy, why are you pointing that at him? You know he's not Superman." Ah, right, that was probably it, because Lex was completely delusional. Mercy probably knew because she knew everything Lex did but didn't share his delusions.

"If we want to lure the Kryptonians into a trap, we'll need bait," she says bluntly.

"Clark doesn't have the spine for this," Lex says, and Clark feels a little insulted, although he also wonders if he's being played.

"If it's the future of humanity at stake, I'm willing," he states, folding his arms. "Shall I pretend to be Superman?" The irony is killing him.

"I suppose that might work," Lex says with a calculating air. "Are you absolutely certain they'll buy it, though, once they get a better look at you?"

"For god's sake, yes, Lex, I'm_ pretty sure_ they'll believe I'm Superman," Clark does his best to keep himself from getting sarcastic at him. For once, someone else in the room shares his exasperation, although Mercy is a bit more professional about it he does see it flicker on her face.

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* * *

It is an absolute mess. They manage to deduce the projector is in a lead box before they can manage to spring it on them as a surprise and decide the safest method is to crush it to smithereens. From there, it's an all out brawl.

Lex throws everything except pretty much nukes at them, and this does take down Nod, who hasn't fully adjusted to the sun yet and isn't quite fast enough to dodge a kryptonite bullet. It nearly scares Clark out of his wits when he sees the man has decided to show up inside a power suit: what the hell is he thinking? But with the Kryptonite he's radiating he at least manages to stand his own, and this fight would be pretty much impossible if Clark had to do it all solo.

He doesn't comment on how Superman got there so fast when Clark was supposed to be the one playing bait, or how he knew to put on a radiation suit.

The red sun flashlights are good, but have the definite problem of not draining their power, only blocking them from getting more, so it's a race to try and keep it focused on them while also keeping the lamps from getting destroyed for the several seconds it takes for them to depower. They get Mala this way when she loses her temper and spends a little too long trying to bash one, and nearly get Jax-ur when he goes to rescue her, but he decides to prioritize his own skin when he sees it's not working.

The other two are more wily, and keep their attentions split so they can't cooperate too closely together; not that he thinks Lex is very interested, but he knows Lex is enough of an opportunist that if he gave him an opening and shouted, Lex would probably take it.

What saves them is unexpected reinforcements. Extra missiles that weren't part of Lex's arsenals that he suspects came from Batman, then Wonder Woman, and the Green Lantern blotting out the yellow of the sun and projecting protective shields as needed. There aren't many heroes who can safely go toe to toe with a Kryptonian for any time, so he's glad and relieved they even got this many. It's enough to make the fight even, even when the Green Lantern ends up having to beat a hasty retreat when he can't quite keep up any longer with the sheer speed and unceasing brutality of their blows.(*)

And it's only because of Wonder Woman at his side that when he hears Lex's suit break open he's able to break off on Jax-ur and rush to his aid. Luthor isn't too happy to be rescued by him, of course, but Clark could care less. It's enough that he's alive.

Clark has to admit, in the after-math? He feels deeply depressed.

They ended up killing three of his own kind, the last of a dwindling race, and barely subdued two of them. The double whammy of kryptonite and red sun is enough to keep them docile, but it's obviously not safe to keep them long term on Earth. He talks things out with Green Lantern who agrees to find a good, safe planet for them.

Two, he thinks, are very unlikely to revive a species. Just not enough genetic diversity. But they won't be alone, and they'll be able to stretch their legs.

Lex looks smugly delighted at the dead bodies, and childishly kicks them just because he can, and less than pleased about the plan to put the survivors on another planet, but doesn't waste a lot of time complaining. He's probably done the calculations too, and realizes there's almost no way, barring some other power grabbing them, that they're coming back to haunt humanity. It's a relief, but also incredibly saddening, because it didn't have to be this way. They didn't have to fight.

Why? Why couldn't they just get along?

"Where did you run off to, Clark?" Lex asks when he pops his head up again in more comfortable, more human clothing, although not quite as comfortable as he'd like. He feels really awkward wearing one of Lex's suits, and he's aware of Wonder Woman's stare at what is quite strange attire for him, as well as weird behavior of approaching Lex Luthor in his civilian guise. "You look horrible. Cheer up, Kent, the alien invasion is finally over! Well, almost over. They didn't get rid of Superman, unfortunately. It would have been nice if they'd killed each other off and done the rest of us a favor."

"God, you can't cut it out for two seconds can you Lex?" Clark fires back, then sags, tired. He knows he probably should have called him Luthor in front of Wonder Woman, but he doesn't actually like to lie. "People still died. Yeah, it's great that it's over, but this isn't exactly what I'd call a happy day." Fuck, it's all his fault. He pauses and looks to her. "Were you waiting for Superman to show up before starting your own fight?"

"Batman calculated our chances would be better with Superman, provided he hadn't died of his injuries," she affirms, and turns away.

It's nice that someone thought things were better with him, but honestly, Clark found himself wondering if maybe it would all be better if Superman just went away.

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* * *

He tries it for exactly a week, disappearing, until he hears a kitten in a tree that's on fire and can't take it. Felt guilty if he did, felt even guiltier if he didn't. Sometimes you just can't win.

Then he spots Lois in a death trap again and of course he has to go rescue her. He's not going to just let her die because she has no self preservation.

Lois asks him if this means he's done moping, and he's too flabbergasted to come up with a proper response. "I wasn't moping."

"Sure. Just recovering from your heroic injuries, I'm sure? It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact you apparently came up with a plan with Luthor and he had time to dig into your head and get to you?" she says with a rhetorical air to her questions.

"...probably nothing to do with that, sure," he sort of fibs unconvincingly.

.

* * *

"What if I told you I was Superman?" he finally gives up and asks Lex one day, when they're working on a science project together.

"I'd say stop kidding around, Kent, and hand me that spanner."

Clark laughs.

Some things never change, no matter how much an odd part of you wishes they would.

Although when Clark oh-so-not-very-subtly brings along with their next take-out some texts on current attempts to cure cancer, to 'work on' by himself in front of him one day, Lex does sigh at him and tell him to move over, that he can't stand seeing his cringe-inducing efforts any longer.

What really does freak out Clark is when Lex wants to put his name on one of the scientific papers.

"What will people think of a reporter writing one of these? And I didn't contribute that much, anyway." He did type up a lot of the notes, since he was a fast typist and he might as well, but that hardly counted, did it?

"But you did contribute some, Clark. That's how collaborations work."

In the end? Lex gets his way.

But so, in a way, did Clark.

.

* * *

(* I actually have no idea what Green Lantern power level is, they make things out of green light, like not exactly the most intuitive power to gauge ever, very easy to make totally broken. His concentration only needs to falter for a second though for them to totally butcher him, so I'm guessing he's not quite on their level for any extended period of time where stamina has to come into play.)

* * *

Author's Rant:

Okay, ugh. I profess I was so excited when I saw I had over 10 new reviews for one chapter. Then I see it's this one person, a guest, who appears to have basically spammed a bunch of content, a lot of which has absolutely nothing to do with this fic. Anyone who doesn't want to read a rant, just skip this section.

One thing did seem relevant in the spam:

They posted _'if you kill them you are just as bad excuse, why do authors keep using this?'_

What? No, did you actually read my damn fic? If you did, you would have noticed that I heavily implied Clark's alien psychology from Kryptonian selective breeding makes it really hard for him to kill, and outright stated that he's the alien equivalent of a golden retriever, so that he doesn't _want_ to kill. Where the hell did you get "If you kill them you will be just as bad" from him saying last chapter "Killing should be a last resort"? Don't spam people's fics with your pet beefs about things they didn't even fucking write. I have no idea why you are ranting about religion, either, except maybe the fact I mentioned Clark is religious: I'm not fucking religious. I did write that Clark is, because I'm trying to have fun doing a character analysis and it makes logical sense that he should be with his upbringing being in the South. Believe it or not, but you can be an atheist without hating religious people, and you can write the views of fictional characters_ without agreeing with everything they say._

Character analysis, by the way, doesn't mean I suddenly make all the characters god damn perfect. Why the fuck would you want that, anyway? That would be so boring. Yes, someone should shoot the Joker, but it makes no psychological sense for _Batman_ to do it when the man is, frankly, a basket-case with essentially a gun-phobia, and far more interesting a character for it! And why are you even ranting about Batman when Batman hasn't even done much beyond 'noted to exist' in this fic? Are you off your meds or accidentally, somehow hit send 12 different times on the wrong fanfic?

On your note about the economy, I have no idea why you are bringing far left versus far right into this, but that 'pursuit of happiness' you spoke of? Is a hell of a lot harder if you are working 3 jobs just to feed your children and pay rent or if you bankrupt yourself trying not to die of disease. Leveling the playing field is not that radical. I don't know too many people who actually want to metaphorically eat the rich like you seem afraid of; they just want health care and decent wages that actually cover their needs, and they're scared of the massive disruption climate change will bring if we don't stop it. Whether or not 'most' corporations have 'decent' CEOs is totally irrelevant when the largest corporations like Amazon often literately pay people cents (look up online "microtask" jobs that one can sign up for if you don't believe me) and force them to work in a pandemic without adequate protection / paid sick leave because it would cut into their profits.

What moron wants a sick person coughing on their packages, or their Happy Meal? No one sane, obviously. Yet that's how our country (I assume you are from the USA) is set up because we don't have guaranteed paid sick leave. When people try to fix this, people scream 'socialism!'

_'people don't deserve cancer cures as long as...' _Wow. Doesn't matter what the rest of that sentence is, that's just, like, fucking sadistic?

I think I give up. I'm just gonna get this finished up and done with. I hadn't changed my plans on the lethal means used by the characters in any way, by the way, I was planning on this from the previous chapter to have one or more of the Kryptonians die. It's pretty obvious almost no one is reading it anyway, not even this dude. I semi-got to where that other reviewer asked, where Clark tries to tell Lex the truth. Lex, of course, is a bit of a monomaniac (he literately didn't buy it when a computer spat out that Clark Kent was Superman) so he just totally ignores him. That's the tragedy part of their story.

Anyway, I think this works as an ending. Clark and Lex, publishing cancer cures, while still dueling to the death every Monday thru Friday. It fits them.


End file.
